


Living On The Edge

by Aurrus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age AU, M/M, Mage!Loki, Post-DA2, Pre-DAI, Slow Build, rated M just to be on the safe side, templar!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurrus/pseuds/Aurrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mage-Templar War has only just broke out. Loki is a mage that escaped his Circle after it rebelled; Tony is a Templar with quite unorthodox views of his job, which lead to him being hunted by his former comrades-in-arms after he refused to participate in killing innocent mages for the sin of being born different.</p>
<p>Inevitably, they meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubberbandgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberbandgirl/gifts).



> First of all, this story was born because my darling [rubberbandgirlme](http://rubberbandgirlme.tumblr.com/) is enabler, and also is the one responsible for my descent into Dragon Age hell, and so it's dedicated to her :D It's hardly a surprise, but at least I hope you'll like it!  
> Also I would've never been able to finish it without [starksexual](http://starksexual.tumblr.com/)'s help - a HUGE part of the plot was her inspiration; she also had to listen to me whine and freak out about this story and deserves all the love! Thank you!! <3
> 
> And now my forever gratitude to my most amazing artist, [xjapanda](http://xjapanda.tumblr.com/), who did gorgeous art for this fic (I'm so incredibly lucky to have worked with her!), and [horns-of-mischief](http://horns-of-mischief.tumblr.com/), my wonderful beta who was patient enough to work with me despite my inability to write things at proper dates!
> 
> Before you start reading - you should probably be familiar with Dragon Age videogames, otherwise it might make no sense to you in some places, but I think it doesn't require much of lore knowledge; if you know basics (mages are held in Circles because they are considered to be a threat to other people and the templars watch over them), you should be fine!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy :D

It started with running.

For his whole life, for as long as he could remember, Loki has detested the Circle; he has been taught to see it as a prison which contained monsters since he was but a child, and when his magic manifested, he learnt to be afraid of it even before realizing why. He feared the monsters within; he feared that, should anyone find out he was a mage, he would be sent to the Circle only for the other monsters to tear him apart.

The best part? The Circle was supposed to be seen as a _good_ thing.

Oh, sweet irony.

And now this ‘good thing’ was falling apart right around him, and Loki was running for his life as fast as he could, already wheezing from all the panic, adrenaline and, well, running.

And air. So much air. It felt like he’d never been out in the open where there was so much fresh air, though logically he knew that it was untrue – he’d been brought to the Circle later than most of other mages, but it still felt like a different life altogether.

He didn’t much like to dwell on it. Or think about it at all, really.

Loki dashed past the first line of trees, only allowing himself to slow down a bit as he entered the forest that surrounded the Circle’s tower.

He turned around to watch.

It was burning.

So beautiful.

There was no time to spare, however, so he took a deep breath – the _smell_ of the forest was almost overwhelming, pine and soil and grass, so much _more_ than the stale air of their tower’s courtyard had ever been – and went on running.

A small part of him was disappointed that he didn’t stay – Loki made his best to brush it off, and he wasn’t mad enough to listen to it, but had to admit that there _was_ a certain appeal in the thought. Helping the others to fight, to burn the blasted tower to the ground… He sighed wistfully.

Loki used to be afraid of the Circle. First he was scared of the horrors that laid within, and as he grew up, he learnt to be afraid of himself, because at some point the realization hit: he wouldn’t be given to the monsters – he was, in fact, one of them.

He learnt to fear the templars only much later, when the Circle has inevitably caught up with him. It seemed that he had found the monsters, after all – only not the ones he was taught to be scared of.

Templars were so much worse than he could have ever imagined.

Every day spent in Circle Loki dreamed of escaping it.

And now… he was. He had never thought, however, that it would be like this, that he would finally have his heart’s desire fulfilled.

Loki wasn’t even certain if he _wanted_ it like this. Sure, he entertained the thought of living on a run multiple times, came to the conclusion that anything would be better than being contained in the Circle anymore and even had a rough plan of action for when he’d have his freedom – but it hardly mattered now.

Now, _nothing_ mattered. The Circle has rebuked; the templars have gone mad; the world has burned along with the tower that he was leaving behind.

Every mage out there was now an apostate. Every templar made it a personal point to hunt down as many of them as possible. Everything has gone awry – and though that wistful part of Loki has certainly enjoyed picturing himself escaping the Circle with a bang, he knew that it would have had to be done as discreetly as possible if he didn’t want to get himself caught and possibly made tranquil.

So much for discretion, now. The rebellion exploded to its full mast in the span of a day – by the time he processed what’s been going on, a vicious fighting had already been on in the front yard, the templars struggling to keep mages contained and both parties beyond caring for casualties.

They were all letting out decades of frustrations and hatred on both sides, at long last. Loki probably _could_ have stayed and fight along other mages; he doubted, however, that they were fighting for anything other than personal revenge, so he took his chances and fled. He was not the only one – as he hurried away from the tower he caught a glimpse of a few other mages scrambling away – but surprisingly enough, the majority of them stayed behind. Either they were bloody enthusiasts or really didn’t care for freedom at all anymore, the only thing that mattered for them now being the need to burn out long-termed frustrations, whatever the cost.

 _Let them_ , Loki thought grimly, pushing his way through the forest.

With any luck, they would kill each other, and somewhere in the process phylacteries would get destroyed as well; he would have made sure of it before escaping, had everything gone the way he planned, but now there was no time – by the looks of it, the only reason the Right of Annulment hasn’t been declared yet was because the templars have been caught unaware and were too busy managing mages. That, and the fact that it was probably not even necessary; with the way it was going, they would have to destroy the Circle to suppress the rebellion anyway.

Or maybe some of the other mages would do it as the next mark of their rebellion; Loki really hoped that one way or another, the fucking phylacteries _would_ be destroyed, because he certainly had no desire to return to the tower _ever_.

If not, if they were to come for him…

He breathed out heavily and sagged against a tree. The tower was far away now that he could no longer hear the commotion; he thought he could still smell the smoke, though, so he’d better start running again.

Not that he thought he was in any _immediate_ danger right now. The templars that could possibly go after him must have all still been busy with the rebellion.

There was a stray thought in his head, sickeningly worry-like, that he pushed away as hard and as fast as he could, disgusted with himself, with the whole situation, with the whole world, really.

This rebellion thing was a bother, really. If only he could be one of the other day escapees – leave the place, settle down in some smaller than life village or get lost in some huge-ass city, never give a second thought about his past…

But no, _his_ hard-won freedom had to be a mocking prize right in the maelstrom of the beginning war.

And he just _knew_ it was going to be a war.

Loki pushed himself off the tree and started walking once again, absentmindedly brushing the pine needles off his robes.

He had no idea where he would head now. His Circle was not the first one to rebel, and surely would not be the last one; it meant that the templars would be going absolutely mad everywhere, either in attempts to restore the order or trying to prevent the inevitable from happening.

Aside from that, even if he _did_ know where his destination laid…

He still needed a map.

It’s not like his escape was planned or anything and he had time to grab provision, maps and the likes.

Loki started laughing.

It was a nervous laugh; he knew that he was still wheezing, hysterical and on the edge of a full-blown panic attack, but couldn’t stop, doubling over with laughter that sounded more like sobs by the second.

 _It was over_.

He may not have been prepared, he may not know where to go, but… it was over.

He was free.

He was _free!_

The light danced in front of his eyes, and there was wetness on his cheeks, and he was still laughing, but _he was free,_ and _it was over_.

When his fit finally subsided, Loki found himself on his knees, half-lying on the forest bed, desperately clutching at the soil with muddy fingers.

Something that had been his once. Something that he couldn’t really remember ever having.

The concept was as foreign as it was thrilling, and he couldn’t stop grinning like a bloody idiot he was – enjoying _freedom_ so close to his burning prison, to vicious people he had yet to think of how best to escape.

 _Deep breaths_.

He crawled to the nearest tree and leaned heavily against it. Maybe a short break would actually do more good than harm – there was no need in exhausting himself any further to the point where he _couldn’t_ run when it would be needed most.

And Loki really needed to _think_. He still wasn’t exactly safe – he was a _mage,_ he was _never_ going to be safe, a despicable voice in his head intoned – but at least he had some time to plan more carefully, now.

He needed to get as far away from the tower as possible – that went without saying. But… he also probably needed to lay low and try to hide the fact that he was a mage if he wanted his journey to progress and not come to an abrupt end at some templar’s sword.

Thus, first of all, he had to decide the fate of his staff. On one hand, the best option would be to get rid of it as soon as possible if he didn’t want any unnecessary attention; on the other, though, there was only so much magic he could do without it, and it certainly wouldn’t be nearly enough to fight templars. For the worst case scenario, his staff had a bladed tip... Maybe if the blade was larger...

Loki snorted at the thought. Now that was a picture; making a longsword into a working staff or wielding it with the precise movements the staff required – whichever would be more challenging, he wondered, trying to imagine himself with a sword. Most likely it would be a disaster; while he was quite good at stick fight, it didn’t take an expert to see that he lacked both muscles and training where heavy armor was concerned.

So he had to either take his chances at fighting once he inevitably got busted, or take his chances at not getting busted while being totally helpless in case something went terribly wrong.

And as they say, if something can possibly go wrong, it will. Most likely it won’t even have anything to do with his decision – no matter whether Loki would leave his stuff behind or bring it with him, it will haunt him regardless.

So much for the first thing on his list.

Not that he had an actual list to follow…

Loki took another deep breath and curled into himself, hugging his knees to his chest. With the battle left behind and adrenaline rush slowly receding, he was starting to feel the chill in the air; it would be another couple of hours before the sun set, but here, in the shadow of great trees, it was already getting cold.

He could start a fire, Loki thought lazily, pressing his cheek to his knees, eyes darting around him in search of dry wood. He didn’t think that the templars would give a chase for any mages that managed to escape in the chaos right away; most likely they would spend a day or two licking their wounds and eagerly waiting for further commands from their Order.

Just so that they could kill escaped mages on sight not only because they wanted to, but because they were ordered to.

It was all a ‘maybe’, though. There was no guarantee that the fighting hasn’t come to an end yet, and the templars haven’t taken off to pursue those who fled. The worst thing Loki could do was to assume anything.

He really, really didn’t want his freedom to be cut short – or his life, for that matter – before he had even had a chance to grasp it fully.

So he got himself to his feet before he could become even more lethargic and before a creeping feeling of hopelessness could settle heavily in his gut, and ran again.

~*~*~

It started with hiding.

The templars had their hackles raised lately more than ever, and any attempts at communication with mages have become increasingly difficult – not that a friendly chatter between a templar and a mage has been a frequent occurrence on a good day, to start with, but with recent events in Kirkwall even those rare moments had to come to an end.

So when Tony heard a hushed and panicked “Ser Anthony!” from behind a corner, he had to make quite a detour from his usual route before finally addressing to it.

Luckily enough, the apprentice that had enough guts to seek him out also had enough brains to follow him when he sent the boy a pointed glare paired with a barely there tilt of his head.

“What is it?” Tony inquired as they reached one of the lesser used nooks of the tower. The boy – pale, disheveled and a nervous wreck if he ever saw one – was fidgeting in place, constantly tugging at his robes, eyes darting from one side to the other.

“There’s, ah,” he cleared his throat, breathing hard, and seemed to cower when Tony frowned. “There’s… unrest in the tower.”

Tony’s frown deepened. Sometimes being on good terms with mages paid off; he often was the first one to know of possible problems, but this was unusually unspecific – and worrying, because any kind of a major forewarning usually came in the form of an urgent, if often reluctant, message from the First Enchanter Yinsen.

“What kind of unrest?”

The boy sucked in a breath and gulped, looking him in the eye for the first time. Tony felt something heavy settle in his stomach at that look.

“There’s going to be a revolt, ser,” he barely whispered.

Tony felt like a bucket of cold water was just downed on him.

“Shit,” he breathed out, running his fingers through his hair. “Oh, shit.”

A revolt was bad. Very, very bad.

Not in a ‘there’s nothing but troubles coming from mages’ way, but in a ‘they’re gonna get themselves killed for sure’ way. With the rebellion in Kirkwall still fresh he was sure that Knight-Commander Obadiah wouldn’t even wait for a confirmation from the Grand Cleric – he would announce the Right of Annulment the second it becomes apparent that mages of Starkhaven decided to follow their fellows example.

“Exactly, ser,” the boy replied meekly, leaning on the wall heavily.

Tony cursed under his breath, thinking rapidly.

He would have to talk to the First Enchanter. He must’ve either been in on it – which, knowing the man, was unlikely, but who knows? Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that – or had no idea that something was going on, because otherwise he probably would have sent for Tony himself. Mistrust to templars in general aside, the man knew that Tony was the closest thing to an ‘inside man’ they could ever get.

The whole system was just _so fucked up_. If it worked _properly_ , as it _should have_ , there would never have been any need for an inside man; weren’t templars supposed to help mages as it is?

Sometimes Tony wondered.

So, yeah. If the warning was an initiative of the apprentice, they were in deep shit.

“When?” he asked sharply, turning around and walking fast to the stairs that led to the First Enchanter’s office.

“I-I don’t know, ser,” the mage mumbled, staggering after him, wide-eyed and scared; he must’ve been sixteen at most and probably hasn’t even passed his Harrowing yet. A brave boy. “But… I believe whatever happens, happens soon.”

“As it always does,” Tony sneered grimly. Perhaps there still was some time; he could reason with the First Enchanter, and the First Enchanter _probably_ could reason with other mages, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t have to end in a bloody massacre.

“Anthony!” a voice rumbled in the hall, interrupting his thoughts. The mage squealed and tried to flatten himself to the wall in a fruitless attempt to become invisible, and Tony cursed.

This voice was probably the last he wanted to hear right now. Call him an ungrateful brat for it, but these days Tony was avoiding encounters with Obadiah at all costs.

“Get lost,” he murmured to the mage, who was quick to nod and flee. Tony followed his retreat with an envious glare; sometimes he wished the templars had something lighter to wear, as well.

Robes did so much better for discretion than the clang of armor that forestalled Obie’s arrival.

“Thought I heard your voice,” Obie chuckled, appearing from around the corner. He spread his arms and shook his head, fondly. “What is it, boy? Having trysts with some naughty mages? You can tell me, I wouldn’t tell anyone, you know.”

“Knight-Commander,” Tony crooked a smile at him and bowed slightly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Ah, leave these formalities, Tony,” Obie rolled his eyes and clapped him on the shoulder with a resounding clang. “How many times should I repeat myself? If not for the fact that we’re practically family, then at least don’t remind me I still haven’t retired. The position should be yours.”

Tony shrugged and allowed himself to be led to the Commander’s office instead of his original destination. He didn’t want to have this argument now; in fact, he didn’t want to have it ever – it was pointless, frustrating and exhausting. Despite anything he said, Obie held to the position dearly and didn’t seem to wish to leave it any time soon.

And Tony… well, it was complicated. His desires hardly mattered, anyway, and for a time being he was okay with the current state of affairs in the Tower.

“Any particular reason you sneaked up on me?” he wondered as they entered Obie’s office, and Obie closed the door behind them. “Or were you just looking forward to catch me doing something unsavory?”

Obadiah snickered, dropping to his chair heavily. Tony opted to stay standing.

“Oh, you know how it is. We all live on gossips alone here. Would you deny an old man the only source of entertainment?”

“I would, if it concerns me,” Tony lifted an eyebrow pointedly and grinned without any actual humor. “You know I’m not the kind of guy who would kiss and tell.”

“A pity,” Obie sighed. “I remember you trusted me once with everything…”

This time, Tony had to suppress an involuntary, but almost instinctive shudder.

Because the fact was, he had.

It had been long before… _everything_ happened.

Now, he had no one else but Obie – no one else to trust at all.

At the same time, for whatever reason, Tony couldn’t bring himself to trust him anymore.

Obie must have seen something in his eyes, because the next moment his expression hardened.

“I know you’ve been conversing with a mage,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and pining Tony down with a glare. “Tony, Tony… you have always been far too sympathetic for your own good. There is no point in being friendly with them. They are only thinking of the moment you turn away so they can eviscerate you.”

Tony huffed and turned away.

Another one pointless argument he would’ve really preferred not to have – at least not now, not with the Circle shimmering with an upcoming rebellion.

“You are a good templar, Tony,” Obie continued, his voice softer now, but Tony could tell it was fake – they both were tense, both were waiting for something, and with a creeping sense of dread he was beginning to think that they were waiting for the same thing, but for different reasons. “But sometimes, you think entirely too…”

And then, there was an explosion and a holler in the yard.

“…much,” Obie finished, rising to his feet without looking away from Tony’s eyes. “Did you hear that? The mages you care so much about are going to start a rebellion. They are all the same.”

“I didn’t hear _the mages_ ,” Tony spat, narrowing his eyes. There was a distant clank of swords, and then a scream – his blood went cold, and he pursued his lips. “I only heard one–”

“Your network, or whatever you called it, is too slow,” Obie sneered. “And even if I t wasn’t – you’re too young and naïve, Tony, if you thought for a moment that the rebellion could be prevented. There’s no stopping it.”

With the death of one mage, it all went down like a snowball. More cries; more spells; more swords coming out of their sheaths.

“Shit, Obie, you can’t destroy the tower just because a couple of hysterical mages are having a temper tantrum,” Tony hissed, moving to block the exit when Obie headed for the door. “It’s ridiculous!”

“Well, what would you suggest? Should we send them home with our best wishes? They are _dangerous_ , Tony. They heard of someone blowing up the Chantry and liked the idea so much they wanted to do the same thing here.” Obie glared at him, one hand hovering dangerously over the hilt of his own longsword. “It’s our responsibility to prevent it from happening.”

“You are not preventing it, you are making it worse!”

“Tony,” Obie moved suddenly, sword forgotten, and gently put his hands on Tony’s shoulder, looking at once simply a tired, concerned old man. Tony almost flinched, but he held himself firmly. “Listen to me. Sit this one down; it wouldn’t help your status, of course, but still it would be better than… whatever other ideas you might have. Like helping mages,” Obie sent him a dark look, and when Tony didn’t answer, patted his shoulder, clearly satisfied. “Don’t worry, it will be over soon.”

It felt like he was in a nightmare. Time slowed down; Tony could feel adrenaline and panic burn in his blood, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing – just that he couldn’t let Obie, _the Knight-Commander_ , announce the Right of Annulment because of a bundle of scared mages with bad impulse control.

He didn’t remember how it happened, but in the next moment Obadiah was out cold on the floor of his office, a surprised expression frozen on his face – Tony didn’t give him time to react before he hit him. In fact, Tony didn’t even give _himself_ time to react before he hit him, and that was probably a good thing, too, or he might’ve decided against it.

Lost trust or not, Obadiah was still a closest thing he had to a family, and Tony still held some respect for the man.

Granted, it was not that much lately.

He moved over Obie’s unconscious body, as fast and swiftly as he could manage in his bulky armor, taking to running once he was sure his path was clear – it seemed that the main commotion was happening in the yard, only occasional fights taking place inside.

On his way to one of the larger skirmishes he finally ran into the First Enchanter Yinsen.

“Make them stop!” Tony hissed, grabbing his arm unceremoniously and all but slamming the aging man into the wall. “Stop this idiotic rebellion, it wouldn’t accomplish anything but destruction!”

“Ever simplifying, ser Anthony,” the First Enchanter chuckled mirthlessly, eyes flashing defensively as Tony glared at him. “If anything in this world could be shaped by your desires, life would have been so much easier.”

“If you don’t stop it now, the Knight-Commander will destroy the whole tower,” Tony gritted out through his teeth.

He expected the man to be shocked. Scared. Maybe even betrayed, or at the very least surprised – he didn’t expect him to laugh bitterly in his face.

“Oh, have you not heard it, ser Anthony? The Knight-Commander has already declared the Right of Annulment not an hour ago. It’s too late to stop anything.”

For what seemed to be an impossibly high number that day Tony felt the world twist from under his feet.

The First Enchanter was still speaking.

“…said something about it being a necessary preventive measure,” he huffed out a tired breath at the same time Tony scowled, and shook his head. “Seems like a time finally came for you to pick sides, is it not so, ser Anthony?”

Oh, everything be damned.

“You know full well I will not fight mages on the grounds of them, you, being, well, mages,” Tony said, taking a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to calm himself down. It didn’t work.

“But I guess you can’t openly oppose other templars, either.”

“No,” Tony agreed. “I can’t.”

He might have disagreed with the Order on many occasions, but he still was a templar – and while he didn’t want to kill innocent mages, he also wasn’t fond of the idea of killing other templars.

They were not bad men, at least, not all of them were. They were simply… better than Tony in following orders.

And worse in thinking and analyzing things.

“Maker preserve us,” Tony cursed, and jerked his head to the side when the First Enchanter opened his mouth to say something, interrupting him before Yinsen had a chance to quip something. “Come on. Unless you’re planning to turn to blood magic and summon demons, I can show you where you can hide – just… grab the most reasonable ones and stay quiet, and I’ll try to talk sense into them.”

The Enchanter’s mouth snapped closed, and he eyed Tony dubiously, not resisting the tug on his arm.

“It’s useless,” he said softly after a few hurried steps. “I… appreciate what you are trying to do, but it’s too late.”

To his credit, he didn’t proceed to turn into an Abomination, as Tony was scared he would, for a moment. Instead, they were both swept off their feet with a shockwave as the clatter of armor and weapons grew closer – the fight that he first intended to investigate seemed to be over.

“Stop,” he barked an order, stumbling to get to his feet as a few templars appeared in view. “As your Knight-Captain—”

“All the mages should be eliminated,” the leader of the group sneered, wiping the blood from his sword and holding it up. “Knight-Commander’s order. Move away.”

Tony felt Yinsen hastily throw a shield around them, but before it had a chance to form fully, the area was _Cleansed_ by one of the other templars, and someone else _Silenced_ Yinsen, making him cry out when his connection to the Fade was broken and mana all but completely drained from his body.

“Knight-Commander isn’t the one giving orders _now_ ,” Tony growled, reaching for his sword. “There is no need to destroy the Tower.”

The templars exchanged a few glances – rather a stupid sight, considering they’ve all been in their helmets – and then the one in charge turned his attention back to Tony.

“You better step aside, you mage-loving—”

Tony didn’t wait for him to finish that sentence.

Breaking the armor had always been a tough feat; as a templar himself, he had an advantage of knowing the weakest points of it, and wasn’t ashamed to use to his benefit along with the surprise his attack caused and natural hesitation to attack someone of a higher rank. The sword pierced a weaker seam of the chestplate and connected with the skin before the templar had a chance to react – Tony wasn’t aiming for anything vital, it was not his intention to kill, merely to show that he was ready to fight – and then, with a battle cry and a twist that almost snatched the sword from Tony’s hand, the templar managed to free himself.

“Treason!” he boomed, seemingly only more aggravated by the wound. It was his laugh, bordering on madness, that Tony finally recognized – Ivan, one of the worst recruits, one of the reasons the mages were so afraid of templars and considered the Circle a greater evil.With a snarl of his own, he threw himself into a fight fully.

Needless to say, it was as dirty as fights get.

Tony was an… adequate fighter, but alone against five other templars he barely stood a chance at winning. He met the first blow of a sword with his shield, evaded the other and bashed a second templar coming to him from the side with a shield, catching him by surprise and knocking him down; it left him open for the third recruit, however, and while Tony managed to duck to avoid the most damage, he still caught a sword with his forearm.

The blood gushed down his arm, and he hissed both from pain and outrage; Ivan shouted something at him, and Tony barely had enough time to jump away from the path of his sword.

It wasn’t by far his best performance, but it bought Yinsen enough time to recover and knock the templars surrounding them down with a telekinetic burst.

“That hiding spot you were talking about?” He whispered urgently, stumbling to Tony and leaning heavily on him. “I suggest you make a good use of it.”

“What? No, I–” Tony felt a warm flow of magic trickle over his wounded arm, the gash closing obediently under the First Enchanter’s will. Then Yinsen pushed him away resolutely, his eyes bright with determination.

“Help the ones you can,” he said firmly just as the templars started getting to their feet. “I will try to buy you some time.”

There was no time to argue. There was also no time to spare to stay behind and help _him._ Tony wanted to – he didn’t know Yinsen very well (making friends among mages would have been foolish and wouldn’t have done either party any good), but he knew that the man was no battle mage. He was a Spirit Healer, and he would have been better at _helping_ others – not to mention that he was the First Enchanter, probably the only person in this blasted Circle that other mages would listen to, while Tony was a templar, an enemy and a threat.

But, loath as he was to admit it, Yinsen was also right. A mage, one leading a group of other mages, to top it, probably wouldn’t make it very far, even if they managed to escape.

Tony, on the other hand? This was his chance to try his hand at _really_ being an inside man.

He didn’t like to call himself a ‘mage sympathizer’, but it was probably easier to admit that he was exactly that than explaining that templars were not, in fact, about torturing and killing every mage out there.

It took him seconds to come to a decision, no matter however he hated himself for it, and he quickly nodded, darting for the side corridor.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” he called.

Yinsen’s reply was muted by more clanging and cries, and Tony tried not to let himself think about it, lest he allowed guilt to overcome him and decided to return.

Between the two of them, they could probably overpower five templars together – most likely they would have had to kill them, but after realizing it was Ivan under that ugly helmet, Tony had no more reservations about it. Still, it would have taken them time.

Much more than they had.

By the time they would have finished this one, more fights would have been lost, and more templars would have come after them; worse yet, there wouldn’t have been many mages left to help by that time.

Here he was, Tony thought acidly, running through the halls, breathless from exertion and sick with all that was happening around him. Helping to save mages from templar _s_ , no less. Not demons or fearful commoners, but his own kind.

Oh, sweet irony.

Helping a group of whimpering, shaking children to a secret passage was so not something he’d had in mind when he applied for the job.


	2. Pleased to Meet You

In the end, Loki decided that Tevinter was probably his best option.

It took him days before he stumbled into a small secluded village that seemed to care little enough about his background to take him in for a few nights, offering him food and a place to stay in exchange for little help he could provide; he had almost a whole week worth breather, basking in his newfound freedom, before the templars arrived after him.

It took him longer to get lost, this time, but at least they didn’t seem to have his phylacteria and were simply looking for any apostates in the area that managed to escape the Circle.

And now he was on the run, again. At least he got rid of his Circle robes and had proper clothes now; he also did a poor job of disguising his staff so that it looked more like spear, and while it probably wouldn’t fool more seasoned templars, it could also be easily discarded along with his simple, not at all mage-like attire.

He also acquired a couple of rusty looking daggers – an apprentice’s first work, the armorer told him gruffly as Loki helped him to make _proper_ weaponry on the stand look more shiny with the use of a simple enough potion. He couldn’t sell them anyway, so he let Loki take them as a payment.

Not that Loki knew how to use them, but it calmed him a little to have some sort of weapon on him.

Made him feel less helpless.

Loki sighed as he settled for the night, a flimsy blanket, the only comfort he could afford, wrapped tight around his shoulders as he shuffled closer to a small fire, his stomach growling painfully.

He should’ve gone hunting; when he escaped the village, he only had enough presence of mind to steal a couple of bread rolls – once again, there hadn’t exactly been time to gather provisions, and he hadn’t thought of doing it in advance, too dizzy with the novelty of it all. He had finished them days ago, though, and was now starving – one could only go on wild berries for so long.

The problem was, Loki had no idea how to hunt – he probably could manage with his magic, but that meant risking attracting attention, and he had no desire of exposing himself. Without it… his few attempts failed spectacularly, and even though there was no one to witness him making a complete fool of himself, Loki didn’t feel like humiliating himself further by leaping through the bushes after some rabbit that managed to escape his inept trap.

He sulked by the fire and tried to sooth his stomach with a helping of roasted mushrooms he came across earlier in the day. There was not nearly enough to sate his hunger, but with any luck, it would suffice for him to at least fall asleep.

Loki leaned against the hollow tree stump and closed his eyes. He would have to find another village soon; he knew little of what’s been going on in Thedas these days, and with majority of his life spent in the Circle Loki only had a vague inkling of what life was like for mages in other places, to start with, but if he wanted to find a perfect destination for his new life, he needed information.

So far Tevinter seemed to be an ideal place to start. It was magic’s motherland, after all, from what he had gathered during his studies in the Circle – and mages were _free_ there.

Not only that – they had _power_ there, real power, and no templar dared to touch them or threat them, because their power was something to reckon with.

It was everything he could ever dream of. Loki allowed himself a small smile – pictures of his possible future life did better job of keeping him warm than his weak fire did.

He would be a magister there. He would finally be free to use his magic as he saw fit – no more restrictions, no more rules, no more templars breathing down his neck, no more _Circles_ that pretended not to be a prison. No; it will all be left behind.

 _That_ was the freedom he wanted. Not what he had now – having to hide, starving, cold and exhausted, always on high alert and ready to run – but _real_ freedom.

Now he only had to find a way to get there…

~*~*~

In the end, the only thing Tony managed to accomplish was to prove himself a traitor, because obviously, saving children whose magic only just manifested was considered treason now.

And honestly, at the moment, he couldn’t care less if he was.

For the first time in his life Tony wished he knew if there was some sort of underground movement that worked to free mages in Starkhaven – something that he, personally, had always thought of as deeply wrong and damaging since the only thing it accomplished was putting mages into more danger, but found himself in dire need of now.

Most of the mages that escaped with them were just as clueless. One of them, however, turned out to be a dalish elf who seemed to have a vague idea of his clan’s whereabouts and assured them that they all would be welcomed there – a sentiment that Tony didn’t quite share, but as he didn’t really have any other suggestions, he had to admit that at the moment it was their best shot.

It unnerved him how the small group of mages _he_ _saved_ (and wasn’t _that_ a strange thought) looked up to him, something akin to awe and trepidation in their eyes, waiting for _his_ decision. The children’s reaction he could get, but the others…

There were only three other adults, and one of them, Tony was sure, was actually older than him.

Oh well, at least they didn’t seem to either fear or hate him. Or did a spectacularly good job at hiding it.

Tony was grateful for it. His mind was a mix of conflicted emotions as it is, and he could do without adding more to it.

That was exactly how he found himself wading through the forest in search of the Dalish, no less. The journey was tough, and the elves, when they found them after a week and a half of wandering through the woods, were not as welcoming and happy to accept a group of _shemlen_ as their guide promised–just as Tony expected. In the end they took them in with less persuasion than he had feared.

It meant that now that his wards were relatively safe and his mind wasn’t set on the single goal anymore, he could finally feel the whole weight of the situation he got himself into.

He was _so_ fucked.

Tony doubted that the templars would welcome him with open arms after everything he’s done – granted, he didn’t think he _killed_ anyone in the Tower during the fight, but he never stayed long enough to make sure of that either, as he was too busy running and protecting a small group of scared, harmless children.

Still, he caused a lot of troubles, of _that_ he was sure. He also disobeyed his superior’s explicit order, which was a crime of its own, so it was probably for the best that he didn’t fancy the idea of going back, anyway.

The only problem was… Tony had no idea what to do with his life _now_. He had only been a templar; he didn’t know how _not_ to be one, but after everything that transpired he wasn’t so sure anymore that he wanted anything to do with the Order.

It was… a lot to give up. Tony wasn’t sure if he was ready to do that either, but did he really have a choice?

The Order would never stand for what _he_ considered right, he knew it now. Some part of him has always known, but he was too stubborn to admit it.

One thing Tony knew for sure, though – he couldn’t stay in the Dalish camp for longer than necessary. He was sure that templars would be looking for him; there was, of course, a small chance that Obie would let him go for the sake of old friendship, but Tony wasn’t feeling like risking it, not after all he had done. He also didn’t want to test the Dalish hospitality. The elves might take in their kin and help the others get to safety (Tony trusted that they would have more luck in doing so than a runaway templar, whose only connections knew what he was doing for living and thus were of very little help now), but he doubted that they harbored any warm feelings towards his kind.

They were gracious enough to provide him with food before he left, though a change of armor was out of question. Figures.

Well, he would’ve probably looked ridiculous in elven armor anyway – even if they had one in his size, which, considering their lithe frames, was highly unlikely.

Tony just really wanted to get out of his blasted templar armor and as far from Starhaven as possible, preferably without any problems that his current attire was bound to attract.

His mother, he mused as he made his way through the forest and away from the Dalish camp, was from Antiva. She had an estate there, as far as he knew; he could probably find her family, and with any hope they would take him in. Tony had never met his relatives from Maria’s side, but from what he remembered of her stories, they seemed to be good people.

Well, he would find out soon enough, hopefully.

But before that, he had to get there somehow.

~*~*~

For what seemed like a millionth time in his life Loki wished there were spells that allowed mages to travel over long distances. Why should it have been one of the fundamental laws of magic he had no idea; of course it was in Chantry’s best interests to restrict mages by all means possible, but if that was the only case, such spells would have been prohibited, not nonexistent.

The second village Loki walked into was much less welcoming than the previous one. Side glances aside, he managed to find a lodging for the night and grab some food – a gracious offer from an kind-hearted lonely, old woman, whose children left for Ferelden to help with the Blight and died there. She obviously missed having someone around to take care of; despite that, in the morning there was a small procession led by village’s mayor in front of her house, and Loki was politely asked (or rather, sternly told to, _or else_ ), to leave.

At least the kind woman generously provided him with food and even gave him a warmer blanket. Teary-eyed, she promised to wait for his return.

She also might have been slightly mad.

That was how he found himself on his way yet again, and terribly wishing he had either a spell to make a portal straight to Tevinter or money to find a ship that would take him there.

Or buy a horse, because if he wanted to find a ship, he needed to get to some port first, which probably meant travelling to the closest city by the river.

If his estimations were correct, such a city would be Starkhaven.

Needless to say, Loki was less than thrilled by the idea. Not that he really had any choice.

Travelling through the forest was… tough. Loki was getting better at it, but it could hardly compare to the soothing certainty of a road; he was lucky to be familiar with forests enough not to get lost at any given point, but his early childhood’s escapades to the nearest clearing where he could let out his excessive magic could hardly prepare him for what days after days trailing through the soaking mud would be like.

The road was too dangerous, however, so generally he tried to keep away from it, but there was only so far he could go without proper food, and when he inevitably ran out of it, he had to make his way to one of the other small villages scattered between the cities of Free Marches. They were also good for making some coin, if not much, but anything was better than the nothing he had upon leaving the Circle. After the previous incident he never tried his luck in staying over the night – one village’s commoners could simply ask him to leave, but there was no guarantee that next time he wouldn’t be sold out to templars.

Loki had to walk a fine line between paranoia and being prepared for the worst, but if the prize was his freedom… he supposed it was well worth all the troubles he would meet on his way there.

It wasn’t unlit little less than a month into his journey that he had to question this particular sentiment as he found himself, once again, faced with the templars.

The last village he found seemed to be abandoned – it probably had been for a few years at least, judging by the state the houses and the main road were in – and while it couldn’t offer him food, Loki basked in the opportunity to spend the night under a proper roof and on a real, if a little rickety, bed.

His tiredness along with this unexpectedly found comfort (anything seemed more comfortable than sleeping under the open sky on a hard ground in the woods) made him lower his guard, and when the sounds from outside the old house woke him, it was almost too late – a few more minutes, and he could very well be killed in his sleep.

But even exhausted as he was, he couldn’t possibly sleep through _those_ sounds. Oh, Loki knew them – it was the unmistakable clang of armor accompanied by a soft rustle of fabric that he learned to fear in the Circle, and now it meant that he was in danger – more than he had ever been.

At least in the Circle his worst crime was being caught after the curfew, not being a _runaway apostate_.

Loki had enough presence of mind to stay still as the sounds drew closer – the village _was_ abandoned, after all, so it wasn’t out of the land of possibilities for the templars to just… leave instead of lurking around. He did find his staff where it had been leaning against the wall and gripped it tightly, knuckles going white from the tension.

He heard heavy footsteps stop just short of his chosen house’s doorstep. Heard a few voices exchange some words he couldn’t make out and a distant snort.

Loki closed his eyes and silently prayed to the Maker he wasn’t sure he believed in for them to go away.

And then the door creaked open.

He was on his feet before the templar could open his mouth in surprise, let alone draw his sword – Loki’s only advantage at this point was the element of surprise, and he didn’t want to attract more attention to himself than was strictly necessary. With a swift swirl of his staff the templar got encased in ice, frozen mid-step, lips slightly parted and eyebrows raised up in surprise.

Now all it would take to break him into a thousand of tiny pieces was one spell – he wouldn’t stay frozen for long, but surely the sound of ice breaking would alarm others, and Loki had no idea how many templars were there.

If all of them rushed here, he would probably be done for.

If he tried to run away, however… he might still have a chance – it was easier ducking from spells and hits alike when one had enough space for maneuvers.

Besides, if he managed to make it to the forest before they got him, he would be safe. Well, safer, anyway – at least Loki had some experience in hiding now, and it would be more difficult to give chase through the woods in templar armor, no doubt.

So he leapt through the broken window and ran.

He only got as far as the village’s gate, where two templars have already drawn their swords and seemed to be waiting for him.

Loki snarled, and his staff danced as he neared them. One of the templars fell as he was hit with a gush of air sent his way; the other cried and clutched at his face, dropping his sword as at the end of a neat arc Loki’s staff sent a firebolt his way, effectively setting the man on fire.

Generally Loki preferred ice magic to all other, but a fried templar served a nice distraction. He grinned manically, eyes gleaming with the taste of easy victory, so powerful in this moment.

And then, of course, there was a sickening wave of the templar’s _Cleanse_ , and the very next second Loki was knocked down by a forceful spell that cut down his magic, draining almost all mana from him at once.

He fell to his knees, abruptly sick and feeling the bile rise up his throat as his hands shook from the unnatural sensation his body was suffering through.

A templar came from behind him, sneering.

“Filth,” he spat on the ground, and Loki curled into himself, taking short, panicked breaths as his executioner walked closer. “All of you are just worthless filth. When will you finally understand that the world is better off without the likes of you?”

Some part of him that was beyond panicking wondered what answer the templar might expect of him. Was Loki supposed to be _sorry_ for being born this way?

Oh, right. The Chantry and its ideals… _Of course_ he was.

He has heard that he should have killed himself multiple times before.

Finally he managed to take a deep breath, but didn’t feel like wasting it on empty words. The templars usually didn’t have any sense of humor whatsoever; it was a waste of his wits even to mock them at the moment.

It would only gain him a boot to the ribs and a few hours of torture instead of a clean death.

Clean…

Oh, but he still had a chance. If worse came to worst, he could very well take his chances at blood magic.

The thought sent shivers against his back; it was forbidden and dangerous, but what had he to lose? It was clear that he’d have to choose between demons and death soon, and death wasn’t in his plans for the foreseeable future.

He smiled mischievously and cast a quick side glance at the man that appeared beside him.

“Funny thing,” he said slowly, trying to convince his rapidly beating heart to calm down. The rush of blood was so loud in his ears, he was surprised nobody else heard it. “I happen to be of exactly the same opinion about _your_ kind, yet you don’t see me setting an ambush for a lone templar, whose only wish is to be left alone and gain his freedom.”

Loki was right – it _did_ earn him a boot to the ribs, though not as hard as he expected. Still, it was enough for him to double over in pain.

The templar chuckled darkly.

“Mages… you always think that everything is about your useless selves.”

“A little bit hard not to,” Loki wheezed, glancing at him once again. “When you are all about making us realize our place is beneath you, no more than a lowly slave. Sometimes I wonder if the Blight and other tragedies ever really happened – Thedas seems so preoccupied with its _mages_ problem that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it’s only…”

The next hit was harder, and a pained shout tore from Loki’s throat before he could stop it, gritting his teeth and scowling at the smirking man, now standing in front of him.

“You seem too self-confident for my liking,” he drawled.

“And you seem to know much more complicated words than I expected, bravo,” Loki feigned a surprise and delighted in the way the smirk fell off the templar’s face.

He leaned down and fisted his hand in Loki’s hair, tilting his head back so far that something in his spine cracked. If his expression was anything to go by, he enjoyed the sound thoroughly. _Sick bastard._

“Go on,” he crooned. “Is there anything more you would like to say, you filth?”

He let Loki fell back down, and Loki coughed, glaring at him.

“I’d say you’re looking for troubles,” the templar continued, “but you have already found them, so I can only assume that you must be getting off on some pain. Is that so? I bet it is.”

Loki felt his insides churn with disgust and forcibly swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Oh, _I_ bet you tell that to all mages,” he sneered. “Or will you tell me now that I’m _special_ , ser templar? Is this your _first time?_ ”

The templar’s face went almost purple, and Loki braced himself for the impact that was sure to follow… but instead they were interrupted by a commotion little further down the road. A few other templars that seemed to have been searching the village and then gathered around them hurried to the sounds of fighting; Loki’s assaulter gave him a last seething look and with a wave of his hand _Silenced_ him once again, making his breath catch in pain and leaving Loki unable to do anything more than look after his retreat with barely contained hatred.

Loki _hated_ this feeling. templars’ _Silence_ drained him of all magic and left him empty and aching – it was always accompanied by a dull, but persistent headache and a maddening, nauseating burn in his veins. The spell – or whatever the templars called their evil abilities – also prevented his mana from restoring for a time, and while he could feel magic in the surrounding world, he couldn’t _grasp_ it, and this helplessness was probably the worst of it all.

He crawled back slowly, feeling a new wave of sickness with every movement before his back was pressed against a house’s dirty wall. Loki leaned heavily on it, closing his eyes for a moment.

The commotion, whatever it was, was getting louder. He briefly wondered if they found some other mage, but there was an unmistakable clang of swords. Bandits? Here?

 _Marauders, perhaps_ , Loki thought lazily, blinking slowly and turning his head to the side so he could watch.

His eyebrows shot up in disbelief at the sight.

It wasn’t bandits or marauders – rather, the templars were crowding _another_ templar to the village’s crumbling wall, and where there’s been at least seven of them before, now only four stood their ground, not counting the one that seemed to fight them. Three bodies – dared he hope it were _corpses?_ – were left lying on the ground in their wake. Two of them Loki recognized as his unfortunate victims – one with shards of ice still clinging to his armor and another with a vicious burn on his bloodied face.

Loki couldn’t help but feel impressed. The procession was closer now, and he could see the outnumbered templar snarl at four others, ducking a sweep of one’s sword and at the same time laying a neat blow to the other’s wrist, making him cry in outrage as his sword fell to the ground. The third sword was caught with an edge of a cranny shield, and the templar used his assailant’s momentum to make a sharp turn, which put him in the way of the other templar’s lunge. He couldn’t stop his move, the greatsword too heavy and demanding in his hands, and even as he made to change its direction, he slammed into his comrade in arms, effectively sending them both to the ground with a grunt and groan caused by the impact.

Now, at least temporarily, it was only two against one – but the winning templar was getting tired, Loki could tell even from where he was watching, paralyzed by this unusual sight. He was breathing hard, and his face, surprisingly helmet free, was streaked with what seemed to be blood and dirt alike; he bared his teeth as his sword swept up, blocking the other’s blow, and pushed with his shield while his opponent was occupied.

If Loki wasn’t so completely drained, he would have sent a wave of healing magic his way – he doubted that the templar had any real chances at winning, but it would have been interesting to change the odds and watch the fight for a little while longer. Also to buy him more time to run away while the others were distracted. It was a glorious distraction, all in all; quite surprising to see the templars fighting each other, though – not that he was complaining or anything.

Now, if only the weird templar could hold out for a few more minutes – maybe it would be enough for him to recover… Loki turned around desperately, looking for possible ways of retreat. If he could hide, perhaps they would forget about him, at least for some time – with luck there would be less of them and they would be weary and exhausted, perhaps even wounded, so he could take his chances at taking them down then—

There was a fist curling in his hair, yanking his head back painfully and making Loki cry out. The templar – the same that assaulted him only minutes before – approached him from the other side, and with the overall sounds of fighting Loki missed his heavy steps.

“Is that your friend?” he hissed, almost lifting Loki from the ground. “Did he come to help you?”

Loki glared at the man, refusing to answer such a ludicrous assumption. He would rather be caught _dead_ than have any business with the templars.

“All of you are _demons_ ,” the man spat out, obviously not even slightly interested in his answer, and backhanded Loki, _hard_. There were spots in his vision, and his already throbbing head burst with pain; Loki gritted his teeth to stop a yell that was tearing at his throat. “You thought you were getting out so easily?”

Loki closed his eyes and took a deep breath. No, that wasn’t what he was thinking at all; before the weird templar appeared and caused a dent in his plans, he thought that the Chantry accused all apostates of using blood magic anyway, so it wouldn’t really matter if he proved them right.

It seemed that he might still have to do it, then. It was so ironic that the templars would be the reason behind the worst crime they accused mages of; Loki would’ve laughed if he could. At least he would get to know what it feels like – forbidden subjects have always interested him the most, and was it truly surprising that the only kind of magic the templars couldn’t suppress seemed so tempting?

He only needed a little more – a small cut to draw blood, he needed the templar to hold up his sword so he could catch it with his hand—

There was a clang of metal and a distinct wet sound of a sword piercing flesh, a gurgling noise, a pained cough – and there was blood, hitting him in the face just as he opened his eyes, ready for the attack that never came.

The templar above him swayed and fell heavily to the side, sliding from the sword that protruded through the invisible seam in his armor. Behind him stood, against all odds, still alive and kicking, the very same templar that seemed to have slayed the rest of his own kind.

“Well,” he huffed out – breathing heavily, too winded to form proper words. When Loki’s huge, startled eyes met his, the templar grinned, carelessly sheathing his swords and offering his hand. “What are you waiting for?”

[ ](http://xjapanda.tumblr.com/post/133753487749/sketches-for-living-on-the-edge-by)

~*~*~

The templar, Loki decided fairly quickly, was mad.

He silently accepted the help, too shocked to be thinking straight, but yanked his hand back as soon as he was on his feet – if the templar found it offensive, he didn’t say anything, only huffed a breath and turned away, walking heavily among the corpses, turning them with his boot to examine his work and leaning down to tear pouches from their belts.

Loki stayed, watching him warily and not knowing what to make of any of it.

Perhaps he was _not_ a templar, after all, but a marauder, just as Loki thought from the beginning – disguised as a templar to make his dirty deeds easier, but disclosed by the _real_ templars.

Still… Loki had never met marauders before, but somehow he doubted that any of them could fight like _that_. The man single-handedly took out an entire group of armed templars and looked… well. Worse for the wear, actually – behind the grime and sweat on his face Loki could hardly make out his features, and he moved with difficulty, favoring his right leg, though it was impossible to say if he was wounded. He also must have been exhausted, if nothing else – Loki could hardly believe that he was still standing, but that could be blamed on adrenaline. As soon as the rush wears off, though, he would probably be knocked out cold.

“Are you going or what?” The man called from the gates.

Loki shook out of his stupor and sneered, the only thing stopping him from rolling his eyes was a terribly headache that he didn’t want to aggravate.

So he _was_ a templar, and Loki was his… what? Trophy? Did they fight for the honor of bringing an apostate to the Chantry? Was there some sort of reward for the runaways that they didn’t feel like sharing?

His thoughts were cut short when the ‘winner’ in question continued.

“Of course, you are free to stay, if you want, but I’d say we better get out of here. When this group doesn’t come back to report their progress, more will come, and I doubt they will be happy to find their comrades dead.”

Loki could hear him wince at the last word and frowned.

Not a marauder; not someone to drag him to the prison either – otherwise he would have probably already knocked him out.

 _Who_ was this man?

The warrior in question sighed and started walking towards the forest without waiting for his reply. _He really did leave him behind_. He meant it when he said that Loki was free to stay.

Whoever he was, he was right about one thing, though – staying in the abandoned village full of templars’ corpses was probably the worst course of action Loki could think of. They had some time now, probably enough to get away, but if he lingered, he risked getting caught and accused of all these deaths.

Loki flinched at the thought and hurried after the man. They would part their ways soon enough, he told himself. He wasn’t foolish enough to actually trust a templar, even weakened one.

“Decided to join me, after all?” the man mused as Loki caught up with him. “I hope you’re not planning to murder me in my sleep as soon as we’re out of sight and make me into some bloody sacrifice. You looked quite scary back there; for a moment I thought that you were going to summon a demon.”

Loki squinted at him, frowning in disbelief.

“Whoever you are,” he said slowly, “I now see that you are not a templar, which, sadly, only seems to bring more questions than answers.”

The man had a gall to stop and look _affronted_. He spread his arms and puffed out his chest slightly, the tarnished templars’ symbol catching the light of the dying sun.

“Why, messere! What do I _look_ like to you, then?”

Loki couldn’t help it; he snorted. The man allowed himself a small smirk and let his arms drop back to their sides, then started to walk once again.

“I find myself at a loss,” Loki admitted. “None of the templars I’ve met – and I have met many, believe me – had any idea of what a sense of humor is.”

It was the templar’s – or whoever he was – turn to laugh.

Loki decided that it was not an unpleasant sound, too – not a cruel and cold bellow the other templars usually had.

“That makes two of us,” he said. The trees were closing behind them, and Loki couldn’t quite decide whether he found it more comforting than the openness of the road right now or not. Usually he felt more at ease in the forest – difficult as it might have been to travel through it, he was used to the woods enough that he could run away and hide easier than anywhere else. But being alone with a stranger that could still turn out to be a threat…

It would be easier for him to kill Loki here just as well. Loki thought the man was exhausted, but his chatter didn’t give any indication of it, so it was possible that Loki underestimated his limits, as well as his motives.

The man suddenly made a most ridiculous noise, a mix of a relieved moan and a triumphant exclamation, and darted to the side before Loki had a chance to react. As he walked closer, the curiosity taking the best of him, Loki realized that it was a small stream that caused such a reaction and made the man fall to his knees, hastily getting rid of his gauntlets and splashing water on his face.

It did little other than smudge the grime at first, but he scrubbed furiously, washing down the dried blood and sweat, and before long Loki could see his face properly for the first time since they’ve met.

It was a very handsome face, he had to admit begrudgingly, annoyed at himself for the thought. The man looked younger than he expected – maybe a couple of years older than Loki – and much more knackered than Loki could’ve thought. It wasn’t only exhaustion from the recent fight that made it to his face – it was a haunted and worn out expression of someone who hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly for the past month or so.

Loki knew it because his face sported a similar look – one that he only saw the previous day in a shard of a broken mirror in the house where he found an unfortunate shelter.

Seemingly satisfied with the state of his cleanness for now, bloodied water running in streams from his fingers, the man thoughtfully scratched at his cheek and winced.

“What I wouldn’t have given for a razor,” he said wistfully, tugging at the short beard that covered his lower face and sounding thoroughly disgusted by the state of it. Loki bit the inside of his cheek to stop any commentary that was on the tip of his tongue.

Sure, it looked unkempt and savage, but it didn’t look… bad.

Loki shook himself slightly, gingerly sitting down on the ground.

The man stared at him contemplatively.

“Do you have one? A razor,” he clarified at Loki’s light frown and waved his hand a little, gesturing to his chin. “Since, you know, I don’t see you sporting a beard, and no offense, but you seem to be just as homeless as I am at the moment.”

Loki shrugged and absentmindedly stroked his own smooth cheek.

“I don’t grow one,” he said simply. He had no idea why it was so – this simple fact caused him enough grief in youth, when other boys in the Circle started noticing soft stubble appearing on their cheeks. One more reason to feel weird, _defective,_ even when he was supposed to be among those who were just like him.

Well, there were also elves, of course, and then at some point Loki realized that not having to shave saved him a lot of time and troubles like _this_.

The man looked at him incredulously and… pouted.

“Totally not fair,” he whined, leaving his beard alone at last and reluctantly getting back to his feet. “Now, not that I would’ve given up my facial hair for anything, mind you, but keeping it trimmed and groomed, especially on the run? _Such_ pain in the ass.”

Loki snorted and shook his head, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Still I am at a loss,” he mused. “Not even in the Fade have I ever met a creature as weird as you.”

The man seemed to mull over it for a second and finally grinned – weaker than before, though; it seemed that tiredness was catching up with him, just as Loki predicted.

“I’d take that as a compliment,” the man said. “I’m one of a kind, that’s for sure. So long as you don’t refer to me as a creature…”

“How should I refer to you, then?” Loki cocked his head, enjoying the faint breeze that ruffled his hair and soothed his headache a little. “I believe there were no introductions.”

“Oh, right!” The man seemed startled for a moment, as if he hadn’t realized that they were not acquainted before. _One of a kind, indeed._ “I’m Tony.”

He offered his hand once again, and Loki warily accepted it, only barely squeezing it and letting go almost immediately.

“Loki,” he replied grudgingly when the man – Tony – looked at him expectantly.

“Loki,” Tony repeated slowly, as if testing the way his name rolled on his tongue. Loki felt shivers down his back. “Well! Nice to meet you, Loki. Hey, I know we’ve literally just met, and considering our… circumstances,” he gestured around them vaguely, “this will most likely sound crazy, but I think we should stick together. What do you say?”                                                                    


	3. The Sky in Front of You

The look Loki gave him was the most complicated mix of emotions Tony has ever witnessed. He found confusion and disbelief there, just as he expected, but also something akin to pity, disdain and amusement.

In the end, the only thing he had to say was a bewildered “No”.

Well then. Tony didn’t really expect any other answer – he was surprised by his own suggestion more than anyone, honestly, and should have been relieved that Loki refused.

Loki was, after all, an apostate, and one that seemed to be doing just fine on his own – if he hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he probably would’ve been fine.

As it was, he already got in the way of templars that had been looking for Tony, and so Tony felt at least partly responsible for his well-being. His actions – or rather, the lack of such – have already inadvertently led to the death of many innocent mages, so if there was anything he could do to prevent it from happening again, he would do it.

Offering Loki his help, however, might have not been exactly a well-thought-out idea. For one, Loki didn’t look like he needed his help in the long run – his little unfortunate run-in with the templars obviously left him hurt and temporarily disabled, but before long he would regain his magic.

And secondly… he looked dangerous enough even without it. While he seemed spooked and suspicious at the moment instead of openly hostile, Tony was only half-joking when he said that Loki might slit his throat while he slept.

He probably could. The air of despair and determination around him spoke volumes – Tony felt that the templar that had been stupid enough to assault Loki was done for even before Tony killed him.

Or maybe it was just his paranoia; Tony might have been a _good_ templar, but it didn’t mean he was completely at ease with every mage he met. For all he knew, Loki could turn out to be a maleficar or even the witcher of the wild or something.

So, yeah, it was probably for the best that Loki seemed to be appalled by the idea of travelling with Tony.

On the other hand, if Tony could make his way into his good graces… wouldn’t it be useful to have a very personal powerful mage at hand? Surely it would be easier to fight together, and—

He winced and pressed his palms to his eyes. His mind was running; exhaustion finally caught up with him, and he had no more control over his thoughts. _Did he really just contemplate cooperating with a blood mage?!_ Not that Loki necessarily was one, but it was a possibility he probably shouldn’t dismiss.

At least his brain-to-mouth filter seemed to be still working, which was a good thing. Hooray to small victories!

“Yeah, okay, I know, it was crazy – I mean, I have enough troubles as it is, travelling with a mage would only add up to it,” Tony muttered, still rubbing his eyes. There was a dull throbbing in his skull, and all he really wanted was to find a secure hideout and get out of his armor. “So I guess this is where we part our--”

“Actually,” Loki interrupted him, and Tony let his hands drop to his sides, frowning at the mage that watched him with a pained expression. “Loath as I am to admit it, it… might have some sense.”

“What.”

Tony stared at him; really stared at him, as if seeing him for the first time. Nothing have changed in his looks – Loki didn’t look more possessed or anything, he was still a tall, lanky guy with longish black hair and a completely unfair lack of beard, his voice was the same and his tired scowl was still present as he gave Tony an annoyed glare.

Did he just think of the guy as dangerous? Clearly he had been mistaken. Loki was just mad.

“It would seem neither of us though it through,” he reluctantly explained, finally standing up and leaning on a tree for support. “I never thought that I would ever contemplate the idea of travelling with a templar _,_ but…” He shrugged gracefully with one shoulder and smiled crookedly. “If I had an escort, it could’ve possibly prevented the others from ambushing me like they did. The same, I believe, could apply to you.”

It was difficult to make his mind work under the pressure of still increasing fatigue and with all hidden pains in his body finally registering in his brains, but Tony tried, frowning as he mulled over Loki’s words.

A mage travelling alone was an easy target; a mage accompanied by a templar usually was held captive.

Just as a lone templar was probably very suspicious, while a templar accompanying an apostate was clearly on business.

It clicked. Tony would have patted himself on the back if not for the fact that his muscles were screaming at him with every small movement he made.

Loki leveled him with a knowing look.

“Yeah,” Tony adjusted the sword on his hip, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, totally, glad you could see my point. Besides, it’s bound to be more fun, right? Not that lonely when travelling with someone. Everybody wins. So, shall we go on, then?”

“That would be for the best, yes,” Loki replied curtly, his lips going thin as in an afterthought. Tony could get behind that sentiment – once he was well-rested and could think straight again, he would probably be having second thoughts as well.

Right now, though, he was past the point of caring, so he grinned, and slowly they descended further into the woods.

At least now Tony had a reason to believe that Loki wasn’t planning on killing him any time soon.

~*~*~

Just as Loki expected, the templar went out cold as soon as they reached more or less secluded place and set down for the day, both too wrung out to move any further than was strictly necessary.

Still, even hurting as he was and tired to the bones, Loki found himself unable to relax in the presence of the other – in the presence of a templar.

Even if the said templar didn’t seem to share his fears and was currently softly snoring under a tree.

Loki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

This alliance was pure madness. It was a small consolation that they both seemed taken aback by the idea of sticking together, but even with the other man clearly flustered Loki wasn’t about to trust him blindly.

It could still prove to be a ploy.

He eyed Tony suspiciously. Speaking of trust… For someone who joked about being killed in his sleep, he made an unexpected show of trust both by drifting away in Loki’s presence and by taking down his armor beforehand.

It was incredibly foolish of him.

It also was one of the reasons Loki actually stayed instead of running away the second the man was out. He knew that it was his chance – he played along with the mad templar’s plan, pretending to be an obedient and docile mage in need of assistance, and now that his unlikely companion dreamed peacefully, Loki could disappear – for good. His words of letting Loki go were nice and all, but it didn’t necessarily mean they were true.

He had been exhausted after the earlier fight, after all. He could have lulled Loki to a false sense of security, knowing that he had been in no state to withstand another attack.

Still… it didn’t make sense, and Loki’s frown deepened as he gnawed on his thumb, still watching the other man warily. Loki, too, had been too prostrate to present a threat, and there was no way Tony could miss it – so really, there was no reason to pretend to avoid confrontation. There was also no reason to lie so that he could take Loki down later – he could have done it right then and there, but he hadn’t.

Maker, but these thoughts were driving him _mad_.

Loki squinted and pressed his face to his knees. Whether the man had lied or not, it was still his chance to get as far away from him as possible, and he had to decide now, before the exhaustion took over him and he lost the fight of staying conscious.

He could run. Or… he could stay and have a personal bodyguard of a templar. The thought, even though it heavily depended on whether or not the offer was genuine, was tempting; more so because he had a feeling that it wasgenuine.

Tony didn’t just offer it out of the goodness of his heart. He had the same catch as Loki did – if they were to travel together, there would be less chances for either of them to get captured, and from what Loki observed, Tony seemed to be in danger of that as well.

Which raised a new question: what, exactly, did he do to become an enemy of the very same Order he served?

Loki rubbed at his brow. Must it all be so difficult?

There was no way he could find any answers right now, and he decided that he wouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth anymore – at least not before Tony woke up. With that thought in mind, Loki huddled under the blanket draped over his shoulders and finally gave in to sleep as well.

His dreams were troubled and didn’t offer much rest; the Fade was even murkier than usual, and unknown entities were whispering in his ear with promises of power and freedom, his every wish fulfilled.

When he woke up, even more tired than before he went to sleep, if it was possible, it was to the heavenly smell of something cooking over the fire. His stomach rumbled, pushing all thoughts of demons aside in favor of the more pressing matter.

Loki blinked slowly, twisting to his side to watch. The templar, still only clad in his tunic and ridiculous skirt, was stirring something in the pot over the fire. He must have noticed Loki move, because he turned and beamed at him, wiggling his fingers in some kind of greeting.

Yes, he was definitely mad. It was the only explanation Loki could think of for any templar to be smiling like that at any mage, let alone an apostate.

“Morning,” the man grinned. “Did you sleep well? I must admit, I half expected you to leave while I was sleeping.”

“Just yesterday you seemed to think that I might kill you in your sleep," Loki rasped, sitting up and wincing. "That’s quite a progress.”

“Yes, well,” Tony shrugged, turning back to the pot. “We also established that we kind of need each other if we want to keep the amount of troubles we might run into at minimum. Hungry?”

Loki was starving, but he also wasn’t about to eat just anything _the templar_ made. For all he knew, it could’ve been harmless, but spiced with Magebane, which, of course, wouldn’t kill him, but would prevent him from using magic for another day or two. His mana mostly restored in the course of the night, but he still felt sore all over and wasn’t keen on repeating the experience.

“Impeccable logic,” he sneered instead of answering the question, slowly getting to his feet and stretching a little. “Yet still you expected me to leave.”

“ _Half-_ expected, don’t twist my words,” the man had an audacity to wink at him then, seemingly paying no mind to being , and instead took a step away from the fire to shuffle through his pack, retrieving a bowl and a spoon. Loki suspiciously watched him fill it and just barely suppressed the need to jump back when Tony approached him.

He didn’t want to give _the templar_ an upper hand by showing that he… well, Loki didn’tfear him, he was just cautious.

Tony still seemed to notice, though, and rolled his eyes, thrusting the bowl in his hands so that Loki had no choice but to take it or risk having its contents all over his only set of clothes.

“Relax, it’s not poisoned,” Tony snorted, walking back to take the pot with the rest of what looked like some kind of stew. “It probably tastes awful, though, because I can’t cook for shit, but I say it’s still better than walking with an empty stomach.”

He took the pot from the fire and gingerly placed it on the ground, careful not to touch the hot steel as he sat down beside it; reluctantly, and more out of the need to show that he felt confident enough to do so than anything else, Loki followed his lead, settling down closer to the fire. The grass was still dewy under their feet, and the warmth was greatly appreciated in the chilly morning air.

The stew – or whatever it was – that smelled so deliciously when Loki woke up looked barely edible up close. He wasn’t sure where the ingredients came from, but was almost certain that he didn’t want to know if he wanted to give it a try. He sniffed discreetly, then took a small bite. If it was poisoned, he surely would feel it – and one taste wouldn’t do too much harm, but if it wasn’t, then maybe it wasn’t worth staying hungry because of a small risk.

Magebane itself _wasn’t_ a small risk, but considering his new acquaintance’s antics, Loki was willing to admit that him poisoning their food was.

Just as Tony predicted, it wasn’t the most delicious dish he’d ever had, but it also wasn’t half as bad – on the run nothing remotely nutritious could be too bad – and it certainly wasn’t poisoned.

“I can hear you thinking, you know,” Tony’s voice broke him out of his wandering thoughts, and Loki , glaring at him. Tony smirked and shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I know you have questions, so go on, shoot. My turn will be next.”

Loki scrubbed his bowl clean, taking some time to think of the best way to put everything into words.

“I think my questions are obvious,” he finally said, setting the bowl aside. “A templar appears from nowhere and attacks his own kind, saves an apostate and offers his continual help… I admit, I don’t even know where to begin.”

Tony chuckled, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes. Loki noticed a tired, hunted look on his face before the man had a chance to master his features into a carefree mask once again.

“Yeah, actually, I don’t know either. It’s… complicated, I guess you could say that,” he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, not meeting Loki’s imploring eyes. “Anyway, I got on the Order’s bad side, and now they’re after me. And I’m screwed.”

As if it wasn’t obvious already. Loki snorted and got a dirty look for his efforts.

“Well, if that’s not satisfying enough for you, what exactly do you want to know, serah?”

“Frankly, I have never met a templar on the bad side of your Order. Is it so surprising that I find myself… curious to know the reason behind it?” Loki inquired, tilting his head.

For a few moments they just stared at each other, as if daring the other to speak first. Finally, Tony relented, dropping his spoon to the mostly empty pot with a sour face.

“Okay, that’s fair, I guess. You see, I don’t exactly… share the same opinion on what should the templars role be within the Circles, with what seems to be common opinion of the rest of our bloody Order,” he scowled, picking at his shaggy linen shirt. “Personally, I think that they all are idiots who can’t get the Chant of Light right… but they seem to think that it’s me who is in the wrong, and that’s where we disagree.”

Loki tensed, going very still. In his experience, the templars were all the same; what did one have to do to appear so vastly different from the rest that he’d be antagonized for that not only among the mages, but within his own kind, no less?

There were rumors, of course – it was the main source of entertainment in the Circle, and the best have always featured crazed templars and promises of even worse fate than the one they were subjugated to now, so Loki knew all about the infamous Tranquility Solution and how it didn’t receive the necessary approval even among templars.

Granted, Tony didn’t exactly sound like he was one of its followers, neither did the fact that others considered him a traitor indicate anything like it, but still – it was essentially safer to assume the worst.

After all, when had he been mistaken for the best?

Tony seemed to notice his hesitation and sighed dejectedly, reaching for a stick to poke at the fire.

“Yeah, I know, I used to have this conversation all the time,” he said ruefully, glancing at Loki. “The whole ‘we’re not bad people, we only mean to protect you, it would be for the best, the Circle is actually great once you get used to it’ shebang. Kind of got difficult to sell it when I realized it might not be all true, though.”

This... Was not what Loki expected at all. The subject was no surprise – though templars rarely wasted their time to ‘sell’ anything, as Tony put it, they definitely believed in everything he just listed. But doubting what they considered indisputable truth was the right track to be backhanded, and if Tony meant what he said, perhaps it was explicable that he became an outcast among his brethren.

Becoming an outcast and murdering a bunch of other templars, though, were very different things. He might have never made any friends or got a higher rank with such beliefs, but he still would have had a place in the Order; his doubts hardly explained his actions.

If asked, however, Loki suspected that he would come up with some other plausible explanation. That was what made him dangerous; he was almost reasonable and made up a story that ought to have won over more credulous mages.

Altogether it made Tony a vivid example of a living contradiction. Loki felt the residual headache flare anew and massaged his temples.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to trust me,” Tony interrupted his thoughts, all of a sudden sounding more tired than Loki imagined. Perhaps he had been on the run for longer than he originally thought. “It would’ve been too easy and, I admit, too suspicious, so I’m not sure I would’ve preferred it that way anyway. But now that we’ve met... I suppose you were right,” he said carefully, and Loki looked at him only to find him staring intently into the fire, scrubbing at his beard. “We are our best bet to relative safety. For now, at least, you know, until we get... Somewhere.”

“Ah,” Loki finally joined the conversation, bowing his head slightly. “Now that’s a real question, isn’t it? What use is there in, as you called it, sticking together, if we don’t have a destination in mind?” Preferably the same destination, he added silently, satisfied when Tony slowly nodded and hummed agreeably. At least that went without saying.

“So long as we agree that our temporary companionship is mutually beneficial and there’s no trying to kill each other or sell the other to the Order,” he gave Loki a pointed glare, indicating that he believed that there was an equal possibility of Loki selling him out, to which Loki couldn’t hold back a snort, “I guess we could leave the trust issues behind.”

“That… would be for the best, yes,” he drawled and copied Tony’s tone. “So long as you believe that relying on the lack of murderous intentions doesn’t involve trust...”

“Mutually beneficial,” Tony repeated and smirked when Loki gave him another unamused glare. “That’s the only thing we have to trust each other of. Easier as it might be otherwise...” He shrugged and let the rest hang between them unsaid. Loki had to agree – a show of unmerited trust would have been much more suspicious in their case.

Had Tony outright admitted that mages were oppressed and deserved better, Loki would have probably tried to stay at least as far away from him as from the rest of self-righteous bastards. Any templar claiming to be on mages’ side would have been far too obviously lying.

Tony... Was either too clever, which rarely was the case with templars, or genuinely doubting, and it was worth a risk.

“So, about the destination,” Tony continued after a pause, leaning back slightly and squinting at the rays of sunshine that made it through the thick foliage. “I was thinking of...”

“Imperial Highway,” Loki threw in immediately without letting Tony finish.

“…Port,” the templar continued and sat upright, eyebrows going up at Loki’s words. “What? There’s… so much wrong with this suggestion, I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, blinking. “First of all, I do believe you’re going in the wrong direction, if you planned to reach it.”

Loki scowled at him and got to his feet, taking his empty bowl with him to wash it in the stream.

“I assumed that getting to the nearest port would be obvious enough,” he snapped. “My bad. But please, by all means, enlighten me what else is wrong with my plan.”

Behind him, Tony shuffled, hummed thoughtfully again and then growled quietly – from the corner of his eye Loki noticed that he was scratching at his chin again, clearly annoyed with the beard. Loki shook his head and returned to the task at hand, enjoying the flow of the water on his hands.

“Wherever do you want to get from there?” Tony scoffed finally. “Don’t tell me that you’re a secret doglord heading for Ferelden?”

The King of Ferelden, if rumors were true, didn’t mind mages, Loki mused, straightening his back and popping his spine with a satisfying sound. Perhaps he could lie and convince Tony that it was exactly where he wanted to go; on the other hand, the templar could reason with him that it would be easier to get there by crossing the Waking Sea, and even if they did make it to the Imperial Highway, his lie would serve him poorly, undermining the non-existent trust. When Tony would realize that he didn’t intend to go to Ferelden, that he tricked the templar, he won’t have any reasons not to give him in to the Order in exchange for forgiveness.

So maybe it wasn’t worth it.

He turned back, tucking his hair behind his ears, and grinned.

“Why, I thought that it would be just as obvious. Tevinter, of course.”

~*~*~

Tony didn’t stop bitching for a good portion of the next hour as they made sure that all traces of them being there were concealed.

“Tevinter!” He repeated for what seemed an umpteenth time, sounding just as scandalized as he was when Loki first suggested it. “The lair of blood mages and slavery! Yes, I can’t possibly imagine what could go wrong,” he scoffed, grudgingly putting his armor back.

“Oh, stop it,” Loki snarled. “I know full well of your hatred to the single country in Thedas where mages are not contained in _prisons.”_

“It’s not that!” Tony insisted, and Loki gritted his teeth. The man was as stubborn as an old druffalo, and for what they’ve been only acquainted for less than a day, he was already driving Loki completely mad. “Now, there are a lot of questionable moments in the Chant of Light, but blood magic is _not_ one of them!”

It took all Loki had in him to bite his tongue before he could snap and demand what was wrong with blood magic other than templars not being able to control it. It didn’t necessarily have to be about summoning demons and boiling the blood of innocent people; he supposed that in Tevinter, where it didn’t come as a last resort against templars’ violence, it could very well be just another school of magic. But it wouldn’t do to let the man who was willing to give him a slip know what he thought of it; especially after everything the man in question had to say on the subject.

“Very well,” he spat out instead, rounding on Tony – whose only reaction was to stubbornly lift his chin even higher. “I take it you had a better plan, serah ‘we should find a port’? Pray tell.”

Tony rolled his eyes, pausing to right the sword on his hip.

“Yeah, I do. Antiva,” he said at last, meeting Loki’s eyes with a challenging look. “My— I have relatives there. And a house. It’s as good a place as any.”

Loki sneered and pushed through the thick bushes in search of a better and more secluded path through the woods, and winced when after a short pause and a distressed grunt behind him he heard the sound of a sword cutting through the leaves. So much for discretion.

“What was that?” Tony asked darkly, catching up with him after a few moments.

“I believe it was you purposefully ruining all our attempts to leave the clearing void of all traces of our presence there by killing a nice bush,” he mused.

“No, I mean – you think Antiva is worse than Tevinter, don’t you? Of course you do,” Tony grumbled, kicking at the ground. Loki felt a raising suspicion that Tony had something against the nature – and Tevinter, apparently, but that was no news. The majority of people in Thedas, bar Tevinters themselves, had something against Tevinter.

“Oh, I merely expected that you would consider something like Kirkwall a good idea to go,” Loki casted a brief glance at the annoyed templar – years spent in the Circle demanded that he kept as quiet and docile as possible if he wanted to stay intact and with a chance of preserving his freedom, and taunting the man was the opposite of that. On the other hand…

He was both dead tired of submitting to the templars just because he was different and needed to know how far Tony’s patience stretched.

Whatever the destination, they had a long journey ahead of them, and it was better to know which borders he shouldn’t cross.

Tony gave him an unimpressed look, and Loki shrugged.

“Or, you know, that you actually were planning to go to Rivain and take to pirating.”

“Now that you mentioned it,” Tony had an audacity to actually look like he mulled over the idea before he snorted and lifted his eyebrows to Loki’s incredulous stare. “Oh, come on, spill it. What’s wrong with Antiva?”

That… once again was something Loki didn’t expect from him. Growling; proving that his plan was better; perhaps even threats, stating that since Loki, as a mage, was at his mercy, he didn’t have the voice… but not slightly annoyed and genuinely curious inquiry.

Was the templar really asking for his opinion?

Loki briefly considered the possibility of it all being a dream after he hit his head (or rather, been hit on the head by one of the templars that caught him the previous day), but the world lacked the usual blur and bizarre forms, typical for the Fade.

So it must have been real, after all.

“Antiva,” he repeated, just like Tony spat out Tevinter’s name after he mentioned it. “Have you heard of the Circle there? I knew a mage who managed to escape and ended up in my Circle,” he paused when he spotted a few sprouts of elfroot and barely avoided being run into by the templar. “He admitted that he gave himself in on purpose, because he was too afraid of being caught and brought back.”

Tony frowned. Of course, it wasn’t enough to convince him; he was a templar, after all – even if a strange one – why should he care for mages’ lives in the place he wanted to go to?

It was a stupid argument, and Loki hid his scowl as he crouched down, carefully picking the plants he could later use.

“Besides, if you are a runaway, as you claim, wouldn’t they look for you there first? Or are you so keen on getting rather… personally acquainted with the Crows?” he wondered lightly, stashing what he managed to acquire away and rising to his feet.

When he looked at Tony pointedly this time, his expression was much more thoughtful and slightly pained.

“Perhaps you are right,” he reluctantly admitted at last. “I mean, I doubt that infamous Antivan Crows would take any interest in us, mind you – but if the Circle there is at least half as bad as mine was… I wouldn’t want to get caught in the mess. Chances are, it has either rebelled already or will anytime now, which means the templars would be on high alert, and… yeah, no.”

Loki made an effort to keep his face carefully blank as they made their way further away from the clearing. _That_ was what caught his attention? The probable troubles with the Circle?

“And if someone’s going to be looking for me, it will be a good place to start,” Tony added gloomily after a moment of thought, then glared at Loki, pointing a finger at him accusatorily. “But it doesn’t mean that we’re going to Tevinter! It was a stupid plan. _The stupidest_ plan, and I’ve heard many of them. The obvious problems aside, the Imperial Highway, seriously? I thought you wanted to get away from the Chantry, not put yourself into a clear view for it.”

Loki turned around sharply and hid his staff behind his back, outstretching his other arm.

“Attacking innocent travelers? Why, I always thought that Chantry was wrong in so many ways, but never would I have accused it of something like that.”

Tony stopped in his tracks and folded his arms across his chest.

“You are willing to leave your staff behind? Or will you play hide-and-seek with it every time a templar sees you?”

“If I have to,” Loki replied haughtily, involuntary clutching at the polished wood tighter at the thought of parting with his only weapon. At least he did so out of Tony’s sight. “Why, does it go against everything you know to see a mage without a staff and out of his robes, looking just like a regular human being by all intents and purposes?”

“While I wouldn’t have minded to see you out of your robes, that was not exactly what I meant,” Tony blurted out, seemed to pause at his slip and then smirked.

Loki made a distressed and utterly disgusted noise, taking a step back – just in case. Not that he thought that the man would force himself at him the very same moment, but the advance was as disturbing as it was unwelcome.

Tony’s face took a concerned and more serious expression, and he threw up his hands placatingly.

“Look, it’s your weapon,” he said slowly, as if talking to a spooked animal – which immediately enraged Loki further. He did his best to keep it hidden, though. “I know that I would never give up my sword – or armor, in that case; I know it would’ve been wiser to change clothes, but at least it would protect me if worse comes to worst. Without it worse could still come to worst, but I will be defenseless,” he drummed his fingers on his thigh, and Loki realized that he was nervous, but why would he…

Oh. In his haste to get away from the templar he pointed the staff at him without even realizing it. He reluctantly let his arm drop.

“See?” Tony nodded at it and smiled ruefully. “My point, exactly. You need it, or you would’ve lost it already at some point.”

Loath as he was to admit it, Loki had to give it to him – Tony was right.

“Tevinter is the safest place for now,” he muttered instead of saying anything else on the matter and ignoring offensive comment altogether, starting to walk again. Tony followed him and didn’t interrupt this time. “Where there’s no Circles, there’s no threat of rebellion.”

“Yeah, only slaves and blood rituals,” Tony muttered under his breath, but shut up under his pointed glare.

“The templars, I’m sure, would be thrilledto take you, as well,” Loki drawled. “In fact, after everything you’ve said, I’m almost positive that you would be much better off there than you ever felt here.”

He was mostly being sarcastic, but Tony made another of his contemplative noises before he scoffed and brushed the suggestion away.

“I said that I have reasonable doubts about the other templars’ behavior, not that I’m against Circles,” he said, clearly frustrated. “The templars are useless there; somehow I doubt that they would share my opinion, either.”

“Oh, you poor, misunderstood thing,” Loki mocked. “Then, by all means, feel free to stay here. It would seem that while you ran away, it wasn’t something different you strived for; if you would prefer to live a life in exile, comforting yourself with the thought that at least it’s familiar evil… who am I to stop you?”

Tony growled. It was the first angry reaction that Loki got from him, and it was almost satisfying; he smiled darkly.

“I guess you are just as revolted at the thought of mages having freedom as the rest of you,” he continued. “You are so scaredof it that you go so far as to implant the idea in other mages’ minds, until they start to believe that freedom is something to be avoided at all costs; when my Circle rebelled, I have seen some of them fighting alongside with templars against their friends, and then fall down by templars’ hands regardless. You claim that Tevinter is evil, but what you do here, what we have to live through—”

“Enough,” Tony snapped, and Loki bit his tongue at the dangerous tone in his voice. “I see what you’re doing here – and it won’t work. I’m _not_ going to Tevinter. You’re so desperate to become another magister? By all means, but then our paths part at the port. Sell your staff, dye your hair and start a business to look more like a merchant, whatever – I don’t care. But I’m not going anywhere near Tevinter with you.”

Loki blinked, the urge to fight still boiling, but fading slowly.

“You— would let me… go? Just like that?” he asked carefully.

Tony’s shoulders sagged, and he tugged at his short beard in frustration.

“Look,” he sighed, wincing when the small hairs caught in the gauntlet’s joints. “You’re an apostate, I’m a… traitor, I guess – for now we kind of have a common enemy. We help each other, then we bid our goodbyes and forger we ever met – I don’t care where you’d go, and I’m not going to stop you or drag you with me because I think that my plan is better.”

“You could always sell me out to templars in exchange for your own freedom,” Loki said tensely. “Say that you were controlled by blood magic, and the place is yours once again. Why should I believe that you wouldn’t go for it instead?”

“Why should anyone trust anyone?” Tony snapped, anger flaring in his deep brown eyes again, but it wasn’t focused on Loki this time, to his surprise. “I’m not going back to the Order even if they begged me to. What do you expect me to do? Hunt mages that managed to escape a certain death and now have nowhere else to go? You said so yourself – not everyone wanted to leave the Circle! For you, for many other mages, I guess, it was like prison, I get it – but for them it was their home burning down! There are lots of scared and lost mages somewhere out there, those who knew nothing but the Circle. But after everything that happened they are too scared to go to the Chantry, because they miraculously stayed alive and became apostates against their will! And while the Chantry and the Order _should_ see the difference, I can assure you that they won’t – and if the Order wants to follow stupid orders, fuck them. I’m not going to do it, though.”

He panted after his tirade, still agitated and visibly angry; at some point they stopped, facing each other, and for a few moments they both stayed silent.

It was… a lot to take in and to contemplate. Tony was already proving to be a man more complex than anyone Loki has ever met; not that he met that many people in the Circle, but still.

“We should decide which port would be most convenient, then,” he offered after a silent pause. Tony took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and nodded.

“Let’s try it differently this time,” he sighed. “ _Not_ Starkhaven.”

Loki pursued his lips, but held against stating that it was his primary destination.

“Not Tantervale,” he muttered instead, and Tony nodded again – but not before Loki could notice a small frown forming between his brows.

Was his city Tony’s destination? He bit back a hysterical chuckle. What were the odds.

“Okay,” Tony relented only after a brief consideration, and even made an effort to smile at Loki. “Then, seeing as we already have a direction set, I suggest we leave this discussion for later, when we find some place to rest and take a look at the map.”


	4. You Got to Be Free

In the end, none of them was happy with their destination, but considering that they couldn’t have possibly both been happy about it, Tony decided that they came to some sort of consensus was at least something.

The fact that he actually had a map also helped. For a moment it almost seemed that Loki would either eat him alive or kiss him when Tony said it – the latter being more preferable, although less probable outcome, if Loki’s previous reaction to his flirtatious remark was anything to go by.

So Tony set on being content with getting none. Still better than being digested.

With both Starkhaven and Tantervale left out, they didn’t have that many options; Tony would have argued that it was unreasonable, but he suspected that Loki would protest against heading for Tantervale, the most logical and convenient next stop, just as much as Tony would against going back to Starkhaven (which, if not for obvious reasons, would have also been just perfect for their goal). He could have countered all Loki’s objections by pointing out that with him being a templar they would probably have far less problems in Loki’s city than in Tony’s, where they both would be in danger, but in truth… Loki had a point. A templar bringing an apostate back and taking him to the port instead of hurling him to what was left of the Circle would make no sense at all.

And perhaps it would have been easier, but Tony meant what he said. Loki would most likely end up dead there, which was the opposite of safe and sound – and protecting mages was actually in his job’s description last time Tony checked. There were templars aplenty who ignored it in favor of protecting non-gifted people from mages instead, even if it meant brutally killing the lot of them.

After a long and pithy conversation they finally agreed that their best course of action would be going to Wildervale, where they could replenish supplies, maybe make some money, and then head for Cumberland, where Tony would take a ship to Antiva, and Loki... could do whatever he wanted, really.

Why Loki agreed on Cumberland but not Hasmal, which was closer, was beyond Tony, but what else should he have expected from a mage so set on going to Tevinter?

“I thought you didn’t want to go to Nevarra,” Tony frowned, folding the map back into his pack. Loki scowled at him, watching his hands closely; it became too dark to see anything else on the map, but obviously he was having troubles with losing the map from his sight.

“I don’t,” he agreed sullenly. “But Cumberland is a big trading city, as far as I know. It would be easier to get lost in the crowd there.”

Tony hummed and reached for a piece of meat, now that his hands no longer had to stay more or less clean in order to preserve the map from grease stains.

Loki seemed just as reluctant to join him as he did in the morning; not even the fact that this time he was awake to watch Tony roast a rabbit they caught changed that. Eventually, though, hunger must’ve taken over whatever suspicions he harbored, as he shuffled closer to the fire and he snatched his own portion.

Tony wondered if he should tell him that he wasn’t half as inconspicuous as he clearly wanted to seem, but in the end decided against it. Telling a paranoid mage that his food wasn’t poisoned probably wouldn’t ease his suspicions.

That he was eating at all was a greater show of trust than Tony could expect.

“You’re staring,” Loki said calmly, interrupting his thoughts and not even looking his way; Tony shrugged – he kind of was, so there was no point denying the obvious – and focused on his meal instead.

This, he thought ruefully, was going to be _so much_ fun.

~*~*~

Whether Loki talked to him because he was shocked out of his element at their first meeting, wanted to distract Tony while he was still vulnerable after the templars’ assault on him, or simply attempted to gather bits and pieces of information before he could decide to trust his newfound ally, Tony had no idea, but less than three days into their journey they stopped talking completely.

Well, Loki did. Tony still tried, but it was worse than talking to himself – at least _he_ never looked at himself with a disdainful scowl no matter what he said. Apparently satisfied for a time being with their arrangement, Loki seemed to lose all interest in sharing anything about himself and never gave any indication that he cared for what Tony had to offer of his own past deeds.

So basically everything Tony knew was that Loki was a mage (obviously) from Tantervale (probably), and that he reacted very poorly even to the most innocent flirting.

Perhaps that was exactly what Loki wanted – to keep him on edge and always second-guessing. The only thing that he could have any concerns about, however, was blood magic, and so far Loki gave him no reason to think of him as a maleficar; Tony could do without any other additional information about him, even if the lack of communication made their journey tremendously boring.

Eventually, after a few days Loki warmed up enough to assist him with hunting by freezing a ram that Tony failed to capture.

“That’s really useful, you know,” he commented later, cheerfully feasting on a piece of roasted meat. “’Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of really tired of skinny rabbits and nugs.”

“Hmph,” Loki replied, a picture of eloquence, and licked his fingers. Then arched a brow as he noticed Tony staring at his lips. “What?”

“Oh, look! You’re talking to me,” Tony cooed, throwing a bone to the nearby shrub. “And here I was getting concerned you somehow lost your voice somewhere along the way.”

Loki’s mouth twitched in clear displeasure, and he looked distinctly unamused, but at least he was looking at Tony now, not pretending that there was an empty spot in his place.

“Care to share some stories?” Tony tried again, hopeful. “Some scare stories? I heard that they go best at night in camps.”

“My scare stories only feature templars and gruesome punishments,” Loki retorted silkily and grimaced. “And I bet that yours feature evil blood mages and abominations, so I think I’ll pass.”

Tony felt a pang of something akin to guilt, but before he could say anything else, Loki left his spot before the fire and went to his assigned bedroll beneath a spreading tree.

“Goodnight to you, too,” Tony muttered under his breath, barely suppressing a childish desire to stick out his tongue.

For a moment he tried to imagine what others from the Order would have done in his place, but quickly brushed that thought away. He was positive no other templar would’ve been caught dead in his place, so there was no sense pondering anyone else’s actions but his own.

Well, at least _that_ he was used to. He’s been an exception for his whole life – exceptionally young to join the Order, exceptionally dedicated to his cause…

Also exceptionally naïve in his views, apparently, since nobody else seemed to care for what he came to think of as a sacred duty. Tony always considered himself to be, first and foremost, a protector of mages – that was what the Chantry taught him when he trained to be a templar, and that was exactly what he was trying to do. templars were supposed to keep mages safe, both for their own sake and for the sake of others, yet somehow this simple fact became twisted beyond recognition in other templars’ minds, and instead of helping, of providing a shelter and a place to live and study, they treated mages as some kind of unrepentant evil, and thought themselves their jailers.

That approach always made Tony cringe.

Now, however, there was no one to berate him for his unorthodox perception of templar’s duties – well, aside from Loki -- and perhaps this time he could do the right thing for once.

And if Tony could make Loki see that not all templars were that bad… well, all the better, right?

~*~*~

There were times Loki almost wished he had stayed in the Circle. _Almost_.

At least there he knew where to find a quiet nook and for all that there was no concept of solitude for mages, it was relatively easy to convey when he didn’t want to be bothered, and as long as he wasn’t causing any troubles, templars usually let him be.

This particular templar, though? Not so much.

He was _talking_. Constantly, almost as if his continuous being depended on his chatter; he commented on their route, on the trees and grass and paths on the ground, shared his thoughts on what it might be like in Wildervale, or how he was looking forward to getting to Antiva, or even going as far as telling some ridiculous stories from his past. Not even Loki’s gloomy silence seemed to dissuade him.

Loki wondered how hard it would be to knock him out and escape. Or perhaps there was no need for such harsh measures – since Tony didn’t seem to care if he participated in the conversation, there was a chance he wouldn’t even notice the mage disappearing from his side, at least not until it was too late.

However enticing the idea was, though, their… alliance still was his best bet on getting anywhere close to Tevinter, and Loki decided that he should better make full use of it.

Even if it meant enduring the constant noise.

“You know what I miss the most right now?” Tony sighed wistfully as they stopped for the night and sat in front of the fire, sharing some stew.

“No,” Loki muttered sarcastically, “but please, do tell me, I’m just dying to know what is it that you miss on the run.”

“Har har,” Tony smirked, eyes glinting with delight at Loki’s response. Loki rolled his eyes; but the man was insufferable at times. “Sweet bread rolls. There was this bakery in Starkhaven – not that I had lots of opportunities to drop by, y’know, also they priced their goods like gold, but they sure were to die for.”

“How delightful,” Loki sneered, placing the empty bowl on the ground and shuffling closer to the fire. The nights were getting colder, which did nothing to improve his mood. “Well then, let me think… What _I_ miss the most are the sentries posted at the grand door, and how they never let us leave the Circle, so no sweet rolls for me. Such a tragedy.”

He expected Tony to go on, discarding his words entirely, or maybe deny that being an issue, arguing how mages were better off at the Tower, but instead Tony just stared at him and then blinked, shaking his head.

“Right,” he said, leaning back and scrubbing his own bowl clean. “The first thing I’m going to do when we get to Wildervale is find a bakery and buy you a sweet bread roll. Not sure if it’s going to be as good, but hey, anything is better than—”

“I don’t need your pittance!” Loki bristled, disgusted by the suggestion. What was this templar thinking?! It was one thing to offer help because of their similar situation, but trying to get into his good graces by bribing him with food?!

“Hey, that’s not what—come on,” Tony’s eyes went wide, his face an open book of confusion and something akin to hurt. “It’s not pity! It’s just… kind of really unfair that you never got the chance to experience life behind the Circle’s walls, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Loki snapped. “Don’t, even for a second, try to sell me that you don’t believe it’s where we belong, though, because there is no way I’m going to believe any of that.”

“I believe that Circles are necessary,” Tony retorted haughtily, and Loki sneered again, but before he could say anything, Tony continued. He looked more distressed by the second, but not angry and certainly not like someone who was losing patience and was ready to put an insolent mage in his place. He narrowed his eyes, but listened. “But I also believe that they don’t fulfill their purpose -- mages should have a place to live in, a place to study, but for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be a prison!”

That… wasn’t an argument Loki expected to hear from a templar. He scowled and ran his fingers through his hair, glaring at Tony through the flames.

“Mages should be kept in one place, but should be grateful for it, is what you’re saying?” he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“No,” Tony growled, frustrated, and tugged at his beard again. “I’m saying that mages should feel safe there, know that there’s a place they will always be welcomed, but shouldn’t be brought there by force, is what I’m saying! Because it’s the stupidest idea of maintaining peace if I ever heard one! Sure, let’s treat mages like a menace and threaten them for a good measure, force them away from their families and lock them up, whatever could go wrong?! I’m saying,” he added with a glare that left a distant sense that it wasn’t really indicated at Loki, “that the Order fucked up. Badly.”

Loki blinked, not sure how to respond to that. For someone looking only to deceive him, Tony sounded like someone who put a lot of thoughts into this little speech; it clearly was an old issue for him, and by the way he squared his shoulders and set his jaw, determined to fight for his point, he already had this argument. Probably more than once.

“That… I can get behind,” Loki said slowly, and lowered his eyes when Tony’s eyebrows shot up, his expression brightening. “Surprising as it is to hear something like that from a templar…”

“Why, did you think I’m a runaway because what? I didn’t like the food there?” Tony snorted, relaxing again. Loki let his eyes linger for a brief moment on a playful smile on his lips – all things considered, it wasn’t often that he witnessed genuine emotions on someone’s face – but quickly snapped out of it.

“The thought crossed my mind, yes,” he mused, quirking a corner of his mouth. “You did just tell me that you miss bread rolls outside the Circle most, after all.”

Tony laughed, and it wasn’t an unpleasant sound; perhaps, just perhaps, Loki really was too haste in judging him at first.

But then Tony said, “You know, Circles are kind of a prison for templars, too,” and the illusion vanished.

Loki didn’t deign to reply, silently standing up and walking to the more or less secluded corner of their camp which he appropriated for himself. As usual, he discreetly drew an invisible paralysis glyph in front of his bedroll before settling in for the night – should Tony try to assault him in any way, the trap would give him enough time to escape or fight back, and if he casted _Cleanse_ before attacking, the clash of spells would be enough to wake Loki and give him the same advantage.

He doubted the man would attempt anything, but he learned the hard way to maintain a constant vigilance where templars were concerned. It was better to be safe than sorry.

If Tony felt disappointed by the lack of answer this time, well, it was his fault, anyway.

~*~*~

Loki refused to speak to him at all for the next few days, and Tony was starting to feel desperate.

For a moment that night it almost felt like they were finally getting somewhere – quite frankly, traveling in hostile silence was _maddening_ , and Tony could only rely on his own voice for so long. He hoped Loki would eventually warm up to him, but if anything, his weak attempt at showing how they had more in common than Loki might have thought only seemed to destroy what little progress his frustrated speech about the Circle achieved.

While determined not to react to anything Tony said, Loki still tensed more when he tried to return to that topic; unrelated nonsense clearly annoyed him, but Tony could see that he felt comfortable enough with it, or perhaps was getting used to the incessant stream of babbling coming from Tony.

“I hate the cold,” he confessed, sweating under his armor. He would’ve taken pleasure from the rare sunlight that made its way through the woods, was it not for the knowledge that in the evening it was going to get cold, and he was going to be both sweaty _and_ freezing. “Did I tell you that my mother was from Antiva? Must’ve gotten it from her.”

Loki grumbled something which could be, and probably was, something about how he already mentioned it for thousand times, but didn’t reply.

“I think I’m going to do nothing but sunbathe for a few months as soon as I get there,” Tony mused, trailing through the underbrush and stomping on the stubborn weeds. “For all the cold nights spent--”

He didn’t get the chance to finish that sentence, interrupted, rather rudely, by a whistle of an arrow that stuck into the tree right above his shoulder. He jerked, eyes going wide with shock, and drew his sword at the same time Loki swirled his staff, casting a barrier around them.

“Watch your step,” he snapped, as if the arrow was somehow Tony’s fault. Tony would have replied, had the reason behind the arrow not made itself known in the face of a relatively small group of bandits emerging from around the trees.

Tony hated rogues. Always sneaking up on people – he suspected that Loki, had he been talking to him, might have said that he was just jealous because the templar’s armor simply wasn’t made for stealthiness, but whatever the reason, the point stayed – he hated rogues.

“Well, what have we here,” one of the scoundrels drawled, a small wiry man with a sharp, nasty grin plastered onto his face and even sharper dagger flying in his fingers. “It’s not often when our prey comes walking right into our hands of its own volition, but I have to say, I kinda like it for a change.”

His companions, those Tony could see – a tough-looking girl with two blades strapped to her back and a more broad looking guy with a sword – grinned, silently observing them.

“I could say the same,” Tony smiled charmingly. “Isn’t it just sweet when trouble comes looking for you instead of the other way round?”

“Speaking of troubles,” Loki interjected quickly, “we are not looking for any. I believe the same could be said for you, so how about we pretend we never saw each other, hm?”

That got the leader bark out a dry laugh and caused another few chuckles from somewhere behind them. If Tony’s estimations were correct, there were at least seven of them, and an archer still somewhere in the woods. Bad.

“A templar and his mage boy-toy, what a feat,” the man snickered in the meantime, shaking his head. Tony felt more than saw Loki bristle beside him and narrowed his eyes, gripping the sword tighter. “I don’t care much for you,” the rogue nodded at Tony before turning his attention back to Loki, leering at him. “If you make your trick where you cut off his magic, you can even leave with your money. This one… I think we’ll keep him for some time. I’m sure my boys would love to play before we sell him back to your friends.”

The spell that hit him caught both the bandits and Tony off guard. With a yell, the man got slammed into the nearest tree, an invisible force pinning him to the trunk for a fraction of a second before he fell down unconscious, a small trail of blood leaking from his nose; the others startled, but fell into a fighting stance with a practiced ease.

“You dare!” the girl shrieked, hurling herself at Loki. Loki countered the attack with a hastily drawn glyph of repulsion and swirled right in time to stun three other men with a chain lightning, the staff twirling in his hands with an ease Tony never witnessed before.

There was hardly any time to gawk, though, and he caught an anticipated attack from his back with a blade of his sword, his attacker only barely managing to block it with two crossed daggers, the steel clashing and screeching from the contact. Tony lunged forward, and the rogue abruptly fell down, rolling away and jumping back to his feet; there was a shrilling scream coming from one of the other bandits, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh, which made him turn away for a second, and Tony used it to strike.

Stealthy he might not be, but he was trained (and he was _good_ ), strong and heavy. The rogue managed to duck in time to avoid a killing blow, but Tony wasn’t really aiming for that, and just as he expected, the man caught a sword to his wrist instead, dropping his dagger with a cry of pain. It was enough for Tony to pierce his chest with a wet squelch.

Another cry guided his attention back to Loki, who was facing two men, another one frozen in place with a furious expression on his face. Loki’s staff was aimed at him, but he caught Tony’s eyes, breathing hard, and Tony hurried forward, nodding as he raised his sword to deal with the ice figure. Loki must have been saving his mana, because the attacker was already thawing when Tony got there, but his movements were still slow and uncoordinated and he didn’t even make a sound when Tony’s sword went through him.

“Seems Janek was wrong,” a girl snarled from behind him, and Tony spun around to face her. She must have been hit with another spell, if the way she looked was anything to go by; it didn’t seem to slow her down much, though. “He’s not your toy, _you_ are his – no templar would fight for a mage, unless blood magic was involved.”

Tony rolled his eyes, ready to retort something witty, but in the next moment she shrieked and barreled at him, and he grunted, blocking her blows with a shield he only barely managed to retrieve in time.

“Not everything,” he huffed out, pushing her back and trying to lay a blow in return, “is,” she tried to move behind him, but he lunged forward, forcing her into a defensive stance instead, “black and white!”

She laughed, jumped forward again, and Tony braced for the impact… that never came.

“Sometimes,” Loki said, standing behind her, panting, and Tony noticed another glyph glowing underneath the enraged girl, “it is.”

With a force spell and a warning glance in Tony’s direction, he sent her flying forward, and Tony pierced the paralyzed body with his sword, quickly stepping aside to avoid blood gushing from her chest.

“The archers,” he said as the last rogue fell onto the bloodied grass. Loki leaned on his staff heavily and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes.

“Dealt with,” he replied curtly.

“That’s… impressive,” Tony admitted, surveying the damage. Both of them seemed little worse for the wear, but unscathed; the bandits were either dead or knocked out cold – he wasn’t sure if Loki killed the ones he fought or not, but didn’t feel like wasting time to check on them.

Loki nodded and trailed sideways into the trees.

“I take it we wandered too close to their encampment,” he said, not waiting for Tony to follow. Tony shrugged and took that time to cut off the money pouches and anything that could be useful from the dead bodies.

“You wanted to drop by and say hello to the rest?” he called out, snatching the last pouch and dropping it into his pack with a cringe. He didn’t enjoy doing it – it made him feel like a marauder – but hey, he needed this money more than their currently dead owners, and they probably got them the similar way from some innocent travelers anyway.

“It’s empty,” Loki called back, and Tony got up, finally following his voice.

The camp was even closer than he thought, and it was, indeed, very empty – bar two archers’ bodies that clearly were electrocuted just moments ago. It was also small enough not to expect anyone else – it seemed that the group of bandits they just eliminated was its only habitats.

“Hey, they are better supplied than we are,” Tony huffed, taking notice of a few items they could use on their way. Like blankets and a tent. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed absently, walking around the camp in search of anything useful. Tony watched him open a chest and frowned.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly. Loki simply nodded, not even looking his way until he retrieved a pouch of money from the chest and weighed it in his hands.

“You didn't have to fight,” he said quietly.

Tony blinked and straightened from where he was shuffling through the blankets looking for more or less clean ones.

“What do you mean?” He frowned. Loki looked at him weirdly for a moment and rolled his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he muttered and went to help Tony. “Are you…” He gestured at the back of Tony's scull, and Tony reached up to gingerly touch the place where his head was slammed into the tree.

“I'll live,” he winced, but brushed the concern off. “No, seriously - what did you mean, I didn't have to fight? Did you really think I would - what, _Silence_ you and let them have their way with you?”

Loki sent a dirty look his way, but didn't reply.

“I should heal you,” he mused instead, wiggling his fingers. “You are annoying as it is, I can't imagine how you would get when that starts hurting in earnest.”

Tony chuckled mirthlessly, still not over the implication that he could leave Loki just like that, but let that slide for the moment, readily turning his back to Loki so he could take a better look at the bump on his head. If it was that noticeable, Tony supposed he shouldn't say no to healing.

Loki's eyes widened slightly as he brought a spell to the tips of his fingers.

“What? That bad?” Tony wondered, keeping still before he felt it rush over him.

“You are surprisingly unconcerned about magic touching you,” Loki muttered, taking a step back once he was finished. Tony touched the sore spot again, finding it as good as new, and nodded his thanks, quirking a corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, you're not the only one who spent the majority of his life in the Circle. The First Enchanter in mine was a spirit healer,” he let Loki think the rest himself. Perhaps not the best decision, considering that so far he always seemed to jump to the worst conclusions, but Tony suddenly felt a sharp pang of grief and guilt at the memory of Yinsen and didn't feel like explaining any of it only for Loki to sneer at him again.

Either Loki understood that he was not in the mood to fight or was still out of it, but for once, he didn't immediately snap at the mention of the Circle and even gave Tony a tight smile.

“I'm no spirit healer,” he said, “but unless you'd be trying especially hard to get killed, I think I will manage.”

Tony felt a smile tugging at his lips. Perhaps Loki was still wary of him, but this sounded like a peace offering, one he was quite content to accept.

There was a thought nagging at the back of his mind, though. It appeared when he saw Loki swinging his staff – boy, could he move; Tony only had a few brief seconds to spare a glance, but it was enough to appreciate the good-natured grace that laced his every movement.

For all that Tony did, indeed, spend the majority of his life in a tower full of mages, he’s never seen anyone wield a staff so… beautifully. Come to think of it, it only made sense – Circle mages valued practicality and rarely needed to practice that kind of magic; but then again, wasn’t Loki a Circle mage as well? Tony would’ve taken him for an apostate, but occasional comments indicated that he was quite familiar with the system from the inside.

Which meant that the training he had probably only covered the basics, and his skills came from a natural talent rather than experience; Loki was good, but he obviously depended on his only weapon, and yet he expressed his readiness to leave it behind, should the need arise.

If Tony was right, and he wasn’t as experienced in battles as he clearly wanted to seem – for if he was, as a Circle-trained mage his movements would have been more precise and less gracious, natural penchant having long since given way to years of studying the same technique – it meant that Loki was far more green than Tony realized.

“Hey, um,” he scratched at his beard and weighed a spare sword he found, glancing at Loki. “Remember how you said you would get rid of your staff?”

Loki tensed and pursed his lips, folding his arms across his chest.

_“Now?”_

“Wha--no!” Tony huffed and looked around in search of other weapons. It seemed that the swordsman they dealt with had only one spare, and the rest of weaponry in the bandit’s camp were various daggers and a couple of bows. “I still think that you need it, actually – now that I saw you in action more than ever.” Not exactly satisfied with the state of the sword – it was probably less of a spare and more of an old and discarded one – he sheathed it and sighed. “But… if you do – because I’m far from thinking you’d listen to any advice I might have – how are you going to defend yourself?”

“If I get rid of my staff,” Loki said darkly, stomping past him and back to the path they were following before the encounter, taking a few items from the camp with him, “I believe that I wouldn’t need to defend myself.”

“I don’t have a staff,” Tony pointed out, hesitating for a moment to decide how to approach the folded tent best. “Yet I still get picked on.”

“Might have something to do with that big bad templar armor,” Loki mused a few steps ahead of him now. “As well as with the fact that instead of a staff, you have a mage following you.”

“Hm,” Tony grunted. “Okay, yeah, you might be right, but the point stands – without your staff you’d be defenseless.”

Loki paused to look at him, making his annoyance very clear.

“So I will be,” he gritted through his teeth. “Are you enjoying rubbing it into my face?”

“No,” Tony stopped, tossed back an unruly strand of hair from his forehead and grinned. “I’m asking if you’ve ever thought of learning to fight with swords.”


	5. Beast of Burden

Needless to say, Loki was Not Amused by his offer, even though he didn’t throw a fit about it, like Tony half-expected him to – he had enough presence of mind to admit that it was a sound idea, but was clearly having hard time accepting sound ideas coming from templars.

Tony didn’t insist. It was, after all, Loki’s business, and if he would rather get robbed than agree to take some lessons, well, it was his right. Tony merely provided an option.

Still, the fact that it was only met with a splutter and “I doubt it would work” rather than an outright no, and wasn’t followed by his usual silence, was also a progress.

Either fighting alongside each other finally broke at least some ice between them or it was the improved state of their camp which now had two small tents and warmer blankets, but for almost a week Tony enjoyed a vague sense of camaraderie between them.

Another week into their journey, however, found Tony feeling unwell.

He didn’t pay the weird feeling any mind at first – nothing felt particularly _wrong_ , although he was feeling more exhausted every day despite not doing anything to tire faster.

It wasn’t until he was reaching for his flask of water for what seemed like a thousandth time that day and noticed that his hands were shaking that Tony realized something must have been off.

Loki gave him a weird look, and Tony scowled, pushing the flask back into his pack. Attempting to open it at the moment proved to be too much, and he didn’t want to attract any attention to his… condition; it wasn’t that he was _that_ thirsty, after all. It was just one of the rare sunny days, and he was sweating in his armor, again. He could stand it.

Or so he thought.

When they settled for the night, earlier than usual, he felt dead on his feet.

“Are you alright?” Loki asked him warily, holding out a bowl with… something for him to eat. Tony realized he had no idea what was it that they were having for dinner, but at the mere thought of food his stomach rebelled, and he paled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I mean – yeah, ‘m fine, just… tired. And not really hungry,” he made an exaggerated yawn and shuffled away from the fire, suddenly hot.

Loki eyed him suspiciously, but let it slide. Tony hoped, as he crawled into his tent, that whatever this sickness was, it would pass soon – their journey was already taking longer than they anticipated, and he didn’t fancy walking through the woods while being sick. He was probably just coming down with a cold – for the past two days they’ve been walking under the constant dribble, and it was hard to keep the water away from his underarmor.

At least it meant that it would go away soon enough.

It didn’t, as luck would have it.

The next morning found Tony even crankier than before, and it took him a good five minutes to realize where he was and what was going on around him. As he got up, he realized that he somehow managed to fall asleep without taking off his armor, and the resulting stiffness and aches did nothing to improve his mood.

He didn’t want to think about it, but couldn’t help but wonder if it was somehow Loki’s doing. The mage did watch him strangely for the past few days, he realized.

Was that it, then? Did Loki found a way to poison him? But he missed the last meal; a spell, perhaps? Despite having spent almost his whole life watching mages, Tony was no expert in this field, so he had no idea what spells could make him feel this way.

He narrowed his eyes, glancing at Loki walking a couple of steps ahead of him.

Or, he realized with a start, it could be blood magic. He heard that it always left people feeling uneasy, and it was the only way to bind one’s mind to other’s will – come to think of it, it only made sense. Loki needed him alive more than he could have wanted him dead, but he knew he couldn’t trust a templar; wriggling into his favor to make him lower his guard seemed like a valid plan.

Tony licked his suddenly dry lips. He felt feverish, his thoughts running awry, leaving his mind unfocused and his head aching.

He has never been more aware of his own scull. A dull, throbbing pain concentrated at the back of it, and he winced, ignoring the way Loki’s head snapped to look at him.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Loki scowled and rolled his shoulder, mouth twisting in a grimace.

Did he expect another answer?

Tony shook his head and pushed himself to move forward.

No, it couldn’t be it. There was just… no sense in subjugating his mind so slowly – if Loki, or anyone, for that matter, wanted a thrall, it was probably better done as fast as possible so as not to let the victim realize what was happening.

Or did it not work that way?

Or perhaps Tony was more… resistant to magic because he was a templar?

That thought suddenly gave him a start, and he stumbled over a protruding root of a tree, barely managing to catch himself in time. Loki frowned, taking a step in his direction, but Tony waved him off.

When he fled from the Tower with a few mages in tow, he hardly had enough time to pack, only grabbing some money and potions with him. As a parting gift at the Dalish camp, the mages gave him another couple of vials, and the last time he had a chance to resupply was when he met Loki, looting the lyrium potions from the dead templars’ bodies.

He ran out of it weeks ago, though, and up until now never gave it a second thought.

 _Of fucking course_ he was sick. Only it had nothing to do with Loki, and apparently everything to do with the fact that he stopped taking lyrium.

It was something Tony had never considered before – he was well aware of lyrium addiction, but…

Surely he would have known, _felt it_ , if it was affecting him, right?

Wrong.

Or maybe not so wrong, because he was obviously feeling it _now_.

His mind was still screaming that he could be wrong, that it could still be all Loki’s fault, that had it been lyrium – or the lack of thereof – he would’ve felt something earlier, and he had never felt symptoms of withdrawal anyway, so how could he be sure that this was what it was—

Tony took a deep breath, desperately trying to put a leash on his panicking mind, and continued his way forward before Loki could stop again.

He didn’t want him to know. Whether it was his magic – which he was now certain it wasn’t – or his own problem, it was probably best he kept his condition to himself.

It was… worse than a cold, admittedly, and perhaps it will take a little longer, but it will pass. That’s what Tony told himself anyway, trying to concentrate on his breathing. He was _not_ going to panic, not now.

How bad could it be? When his body realized that it won’t get lyrium any time soon, it will all settle down. Nothing to worry about – at least for anyone else but him.

He blinked and realized he was staring at the fire, an empty flask in his hand and Loki sitting across him and staring at him intently with a light frown.

Tony bit his tongue before he could ask when they stopped and quickly lowered his eyes, carefully corking the flask before pocketing it away.

All the while, Loki continued staring.

“What is it?” he muttered, his tongue heavy and sluggish in his mouth despite the water he obviously just downed. Tony cleared his throat and tried again, even adding a little smirk to the mix. “Is there something in my hair? Or did you suddenly realize how handsome I must be beneath this atrocity on my face?”

Loki snorted softly and rolled his eyes, relaxing a bit.

“You’ve been unusually quiet today,” he shrugged. “However pleasant it is to be left to my own thoughts for a while, I can’t help but think that you are up to something.”

“I knew you missed my voice,” Tony cooed and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. His skin was prickling all over, but at least he was getting used to the constant exhaustion settling deep in his bones. “But not to worry, I just… zoned out a little. Our road gets kind of boring, you know? The same dirt, the same trees all the way…”

“Well, I’m not going to complain about you shutting up at last,” Loki huffed, and Tony let out a small chuckle, feeling himself relax as well.

Yes, it wasn’t all that bad. If he could keep up the charade for Loki, he wasn’t that obvious yet; he wouldn’t become a burden, and before he knew, it won’t be a charade anymore.

The next few days passed in a blur.

They didn’t bring any relief; if anything, Tony only felt worse, but he supposed it was somewhat expected. The most difficult part was hiding it from Loki, though. His mind kept screaming at him that Loki was either involved somehow or has noticed what Tony was going through and was going to leave him behind anytime now. It was one thing to travel with a templar who could be a useful ally and completely different – to tag along with a _druggie_.

It was difficult, but for the most part, Tony managed.

Up until they were leaving a camp some days later, and he wandered off first with Loki close behind.

Or so he thought.

“Tony?” a wary voice called, and Tony paused, looking around with a start.

He had no idea where he was. Well, he was still in the woods, that much was clear, but there was no hint of the path they followed, and even though the trees _were_ very similar everywhere, Tony suddenly felt a rush of panic from not being able to recognize his surroundings. _These_ trees were different— they were darker, so much darker than any other they’ve seen so far; he whimpered and spun around, lost and terrified.

“Tony!” There were hands on his shoulders, and he froze in place, looking at Loki’s concerned face in wide-eyed fear. “What’s wrong?”

“No… nothing,” he mumbled weakly, feeling his knees tremble as another wave of exhaustion hit him. “I, uh… just… Got lost?”

“I noticed,” Loki narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been acting weird for the last few days, but you’ve never went in the wrong direction. What’s going on?”

Tony swallowed thickly, avoiding his searching eyes. At least they had color; he realized that the rest of the world didn’t, or at least lacked it terribly, and what used to be vibrant and bright was now dull and mostly gray. Or was it just the weather?

A cold hand pressed to his forehead, and he jerked back.

“You’re burning,” Loki hissed. “Yet it’s no usual fever, I would have known.”

“It's nothing,” Tony insisted; it probably sound laughable at best, but Loki didn't laugh.

“It's not nothing!” He snapped. "You're doing no good to either of us pretending that everything’s alright!"

He was right, of course, and if Tony wasn't so tired, he would've probably felt guilty, but at the moment he couldn't muster up any emotion. He felt tired and hollow and -- he felt like he was a disappointment.

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, leaning on the nearest tree.

“It's lyrium,” he muttered. “I… don't have any left.”

It took Loki a few excruciating seconds to process his words, and Tony knew the moment he realized their meaning – there was a sharp inhale and a curse muttered in a low voice.

“How long?” he asked darkly, and Tony lowered his head.

“Um…” He tried to concentrate on his sluggish thoughts, searching for the answer. “The symptoms started… a little over a week ago, I think?” It turned out more of a question than a statement, and Loki made a disgruntled sound. Tony curled into himself slightly. “I… don’t know how much longer it will take for it to pass.”

“Optimistic,” Loki spat, and by the shuffling of grass Tony guessed that he was pacing. “ _Will_ it pass?”

“It must,” Tony whispered and finally opened his eyes. He didn’t have enough strength left to look directly at Loki – at the disappointment that was surely on his face – so he settled for looking at the grayish ground at his feet instead. “It—has to.”

A pair of worn boots appeared in his sight, and he swallowed again – his throat felt so dry it almost hurt, but he wasn’t sure water would help anymore.

“It will,” Loki said, much softer this time, and touched his hand. Tony looked at his long, slender fingers on his sallow skin – has it always been like that? – and sagged a little more against the tree. “Come. I think I saw a village through the trees not far from here.”

~*~*~

The abandoned village was a little too close to Wildervale for Loki’s comfort, since it meant that, just like any other place like this, it was more prone to templars’ raids. He wasn’t keen on repeating his experience from the last time he decided to stay somewhere with an intact roof, especially considering that this time, to make it worse, he also had a particularly useless templar on his hands. A templar that was supposed to keep the risks of running into his hostile comrades, or at least the risk of being attacked by them, at minimum.

Still, they didn’t have much of a choice. Loki has never witnessed the effects of lyrium withdrawal first-hand, seeing that at the tower none of the templars had to suffer through anything similar, but from what he did know from books and various rumors, it wasn’t pretty, and he didn’t feel comfortable with subjecting Tony to spending another night in the open in his condition if there was an alternative present.

It was, Loki thought with a grumble, an evidence of how far his misplaced trust to the blighted templar stretched that he was more worried about the man wandering off in the dead of the night, void of his rattling armor to alarm Loki, than he was worried about the possibility of being killed in a fit of paranoia, paralysis glyph or not.

Tony _was_ paranoid, that much was very clear, but so far Loki hasn’t seen any signs of his murderous intentions. When he finally made Tony look at him, he could see mistrust in his eyes, but more than that, he could see the man’s fear.

Not of him, though; when Loki told Tony to follow him, his face broke into almost painfully surprised, but at the same time, greatly relieved expression, so he suspected that at least at the moment Tony’s greatest fear was to be left behind.

There was more to it, something he couldn’t quite understand, but whatever it was, it suddenly became apparent that Tony’s previous bravado and optimism were a carefully constructed mask. For whose benefit, Loki couldn’t tell, but it was… an interesting thought.

What was more interesting, however, and much more disturbing, was that Loki did, indeed, found himself trusting the man not to be plotting against him. It was perhaps the first time since they met that his immediate reaction wasn’t to suspect Tony of lying upon learning something unexpected about him; he also realized that not only did he believe Tony, he also wasn’t afraid of what the crazed templar could do to him in his current state, and more than that, he actually cared – somewhat – for his well-being, as well.

How it came to this, Loki had no idea.

He had his suspicions, of course, and he didn’t like them in the slightest – if whatever he felt for this man came from lingering memories of his family, of his _brother_ , he really didn’t want to dwell on it. He didn’t want to think about it at all, in fact – with a wince Loki pushed back the incessant, sickening worry that just won’t go away and focused instead on getting to the village without accidentally losing Tony on the way.

As much as the thought was unsettling… he actually preferred to think that he came to care about _Tony_ , not some distant idea of what-could-have-been.

“Hey,” Tony called softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Mages have lyrium, right? If you…”

“I don’t have lyrium potions, if that’s what you are asking,” Loki cut him short, shaking his head. From the corner of his eye he noticed Tony’s shoulders slump. “What, you thought I had some, but wouldn’t share with you? Because I would rather see you suffer?” He arched his eyebrow, turning to look at Tony incredulously.

At least Tony had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Well…” he shuffled, watching his feet carefully. Now that Loki knew what to look at, it became obvious how hard the man tried to overcome his weakness – it must have taken a lot to keep walking straight, considering how badly he was shaking when Loki found him a few hours ago.

“Lyrium is addictive,” Loki said, and rolled his eyes when Tony snorted. “Yes. Perhaps not quite so… bad for mages, but it still affects us; even so, we don’t have much need of it most of the time,” he explained calmly, slowing down as he noticed Tony falling behind. “Only when some serious ritual is performed… or when there’s an addicted templar following you around,” Loki added with a dry humor, and a weak chuckle followed.

“How short-sighted of you,” Tony teased, and then sighed wistfully. “But that would’ve been just too easy, huh?”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed curtly. He didn’t mention that even if he had lyrium on himself, he probably wouldn’t have let Tony have it – there was no use in pondering the what-ifs now, and he didn’t need Tony to assume that he wanted him suffering, or at the very least not being able to use his templar abilities – however true the latter might’ve been, it wasn’t the issue he was worried about at the moment.

There was no way to know how bad Tony’s condition was going to get, but if it was possible at all, Loki would have much preferred to go through it once. If Tony got lyrium now, however, this mess was bound to happen again sooner or later – finding something so rare on the run was an almost impossible task, which meant that any dose they could possibly get would only be a temporary solution.

But they could have this talk later – if there was going to be a later. Loki didn’t exactly like the thought of continuing his journey alone – not so much because he was getting attached to the man, Maker forbid, but because it meant a drastic change of their plans. There was a longer way ahead of him now than he originally intended.

“We’re here,” he announced some time later, when they finally entered the village. Behind him, Tony was doing his best to conceal his labored breathing, but their slow pace was evidence enough of his state.

“Nice,” he managed, brushing his unruly hair from his forehead, and gave Loki a crooked grin. “I like that one. Come on.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, allowing the man to lead the way to one of the small houses. There was only one room, containing a bed and a half-empty chest separated from the remaining area by half a wall. By the looks of it, it wasn’t abandoned for long, a couple of weeks tops, but at the same time it didn’t look like whoever lived here was planning on coming back anytime soon. Not the safest place for an apostate and a runaway templar, perhaps, but it was certainly better than what they got used to for the past few weeks.

“Home, sweet home,” Tony announced, tugging off his armor and groaning as it came off, revealing a soaked through undershirt. “Ugh. I think I might kill for a bath right now…”

Loki smirked and set the remaining firewood in the hearth aflame with a flick of his hand.

“I take it bathing in the streams didn’t meet your standards, ser templar?”

“Did it meet yours?” Tony retorted, his voice muffled as he yanked the shirt off. “Actually… never mind, I think I’d rather sleep now, bathe later.”

He paused before crawling into the bed, however, and gestured at it vaguely.

“You, uh,” he eyed Loki and crooked a smile, “wouldn’t mind the sleeping arrangements? If you’d rather not share the bed, I could sleep on the--”

“How chivalrous of you,” Loki rolled his eyes, masking his surprise. The last thing he expected Tony to do at this moment was to be concerned about his comfort, yet here they were. “Take the bed; I’m not really tired yet, anyway. I’ll go look if there is a well nearby.”

Tony nodded his thanks and all but collapsed on the bed; within moments he was asleep, not even bothering with a sheet to cover himself.

~*~*~

Perhaps now that Tony’s “secret” was out and he didn’t need to hide his weakness from Loki any longer, he allowed the ailment to encompass him, giving in to it. The first couple of days he spent in bed, thrashing around and moaning, but never waking up fully. Even when Loki managed to get him to open his eyes, there was no recognition in them.

His gaze was haunted and full of fear, but never held any malice; he tried to scramble away from Loki and shook his head when Loki tried to coax him to eat something, but never attempted to attack – or sneak away.

At least until the third day, when Loki was awaken by a loud crash in the other part of the room and found Tony standing over his fallen armor, naked and delirious.

“Where are you going?” he asked quietly, rising from his makeshift bed slowly.

“I… have to go,” Tony croaked, looking at the armor wistfully. “Have to be… somewhere.”

“Where?” Loki inquired carefully, wondering if he should try to approach Tony or not.

Tony pursued his lips and shook his head.

“I can’t tell you,” he said stubbornly, licking his dry lips and heaving a breath. “That’s… a plan. A secret. We’d be in trouble if I told you.”

That got his attention, and any remains of the sleep that might’ve addled Loki’s mind dissolved into nothingness.

“It’s alright,” he took a step closer, watching Tony warily. There was a trail of sweat running down his neck despite how chilly the night has been; the man was burning up, yet his eyes never strayed from Loki. “You can tell me, I promise. What is this plan you’re talking about?”

Tony gulped down, and Loki reached for a glass of water that he left on the night stand for Tony earlier, and offered it to him. Tony hesitated, then frowned, but his thirst must have been too great – he took the glass with a shaking hand and downed it messily. His knees buckled once he was finished, as if the simple action exhausted all of his remaining strength, and he fell down on the bed with a heavy sigh, the glass rolling away safely on the floor.

“I don’t… remember,” he admitted miserably, eyes falling shut. “But we had to—the port, but before that… the city? We had to go to the city before we headed to the port . If the… templars didn’t find us. Oh god, did they find him?!” his eyes flew wide open, and he struggled to sit up, panicking, but Loki was there before he succeeded, pressing him down and shushing.

“They didn’t,” he said firmly. “We are safe, and we will go to the city once you are better. So please, don’t make it worse – the sooner you get better, the sooner we can go on,” Loki promised, patting Tony’s shoulder. Once the man stopped struggling and focused on Loki again, he moved away. “Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded slowly, his breathing calming down. “I trust you.”

“A foolish sentiment,” Loki murmured quietly when Tony fell asleep once again, feeling something tighten unpleasantly in his chest for a second.

He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that Tony was talking about them and not revealing some terrible plan of betrayal; if he did, it would have been all too easy to leave him behind, but the man just _had_ to be as foolishly genuine as he seemed.

It was… disconcerting.

Loki honestly wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to get to know any templar this closely, never mind such a contradictory one. It was simple like that – templars were evil, templars hated his kind, templars were to be feared – templars certainly _didn’t_ care if other templars took a mage away.

Well, at least Loki could excuse it for Tony being delirious. And a delirious and paranoid templar trying to protect him was better than a murderous paranoid templar, Loki supposed, pushing the issue aside.

He could think about Tony being too good for a templar later, if at all.

~*~*~

“I hate it,” Tony muttered, glaring at his shaking hands and a bowl of stew in his lap. “A few more days, and I’ll seriously start considering asking you to kill me before it can go on any further.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, his own bowl half-empty already.

“Do you want me to spoon-feed you?” he asked sweetly, and when Tony sent him a nasty glance, made it as if to move for his spoon from where he was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the bed. Tony hastily grabbed the bowl, cursing as it nearly toppled over.

He still looked like shit, and his face was even more pale and hollow than a few days ago, huge dark shadows under his sunken eyes, but at least he reluctantly admitted to being hungry this morning.

Well. He admitted that he was ravenous all the time, but at the same time couldn’t even stand the thought of eating anything at all up until now.

Loki didn’t comment on it, but was almost relieved to hear it. At least it was better than eating nothing, and he hoped that it meant Tony was actually on his way to getting better.

Still, it appeared that it was going to be a long recovery – even more or less in his right mind, Tony was still fatigued, and it showed.

“Is it that humiliating to accept a mage’s help?” Loki scoffed. It was… harder to mean it than he thought, though, and when instead of putting up a fight Tony only winced and pursued his lips, Loki almost felt bad for taunting him when he _knew_ it was not the reason behind Tony’s bad mood.

It was just… harder to believe it than it was to know it.

“Actually, I’m torn between being glad that this gives you a chance to see me as a human being and not an evil templar,” Tony muttered, smearing the stew around the bowl, “and dying from embarrassment that _anyone_ has to see me like this… helpless and useless. And to top it, it gives you another reason to believe how pathetic and awful templars are,” he added thoughtfully, finally steadying his hand enough to take the spoon to his mouth.

Loki blinked, not quite shocked, but genuinely surprised to hear it. It was the last thing on his mind, and for the past few days he’s been busy enough both with tending to Tony as much as he could and with his own numerous thoughts on the matter, so there was not exactly much time left to ponder how Tony saw the situation – to find out now was… thought-provoking.

For a few moments they both stayed silent, the only sound being             the clatter of spoons against bowls and occasional frustrated sighs coming from Tony, and then, just as Loki came up with an answer, his attention snapped to the noise from the outside.

He went cold. Tony must have noticed him going still and tense, as he made an inquiring and slightly wary sound, but Loki shushed him, listening closely.

“What is it?” Tony asked, alarmed. Loki ignored him, quickly placing his empty bowl on the floor beside the bed and rolling to his feet, making his way to the window. “Loki?”

“I think I heard…” he looked out, squinting, and sure enough, there were templars filling into the village. Loki cursed, recoiling. “Templars.”

“What?” Tony’s eyes widened, and the bowl once again tilted dangerously in his hands. “You’re kidding, right? Why would there be templars here?”

“It’s an abandoned village!” Loki hissed, frantic, pacing around the small house. He counted at least six of them; with Tony being practically helpless, there was very little chance of defeating them all by himself – and it was already too late to run. Even if it wasn’t, Tony was in no condition to do so.

“A perfect place for a few errant apostates to stay! Of course they’ll be rummaging through it, what did you expect?!” Loki growled.

He spared a glance at Tony, and almost wished his words weren’t so harsh. The man paled even more, his eyes glittering with fever and panic, the scarce meal all but forgotten.

“Do you think you could run?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yes, but you can’t,” Loki stopped and took a deep breath, running both hands through his hair.

“Then run,” Tony said suddenly, and when Loki met his eyes this time, they were determined and stubborn. “I’m just a sick man, they won’t – they will let me be, and you can hide, you can--”

Loki only thought about his offer for a few seconds before he moved, just as determined.

“They will notice,” he muttered, taking Tony’s armor from where it sat in the corner and pushing it under the bed, as best as he could, shuffling the old garbage so that it hid it from the sight. After a moment hesitation, he rolled his staff there as well, frantically looking around the house to see if anything could’ve gave them away. “And even if they won’t notice me leaving, they will notice someone going to the forest, and then it will be even worse.”

“Maker’s breath, what are you doing?” Tony hissed, trying to scramble out of the bed, but Loki was there first, pushing on his shoulders to make him sit back down. Tony grunted, but didn’t have any other choice but comply – right now, Loki was stronger than him, magic aside. “They’ll find us, and you’re as good as dead!”

The clatter of armor was closer now, and Loki could almost make out their voices.

“They won’t,” he stated firmly, heart beating fast. “Just try to stay silent and miserable.”

“What…”

“For the love of Maker, Tony, just _shut up_ ,” he hissed, as the heavy steps paused at their threshold.

“I think I heard someone inside here,” someone muttered, but before they could burst in, Loki was at the door, meeting a surprised and blank look of a helmet-free templar.

He forced a small smile and stepped aside, feeling his hands itch with the need to grab his staff when a templar eyed him warily, a hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.

“Good day, messere,” Loki said evenly, allowing his eyes to linger on the sword. “I take it you didn’t expect to find anyone here; please, forgive us for being an… inconvenience.”

A few other templars, standing a step behind, watched him just as suspiciously, although none of them looked overly hostile… yet.

“You are quite correct,” the man in front of him frowned, nodding slowly. “What are you doing here, serah?”

Loki walked further into the house with a sigh, noticing Tony watch the exchange with wary eyes. The templar followed him, making some sort of a signal for the others, and they went off to explore the rest of the village, all but one who stayed by the door – probably in case something went wrong.

“My partner here is ill,” Loki said softly, walking to Tony’s side to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead. Tony’s eyes snapped to look at him, but then he took a deep breath, and his lids fluttered close – presumably to hide his surprise, which was a good move on his part. Probably the best he could make at the moment, Loki supposed. “He wasn’t in any condition to travel with the others, and I couldn’t just leave him behind, either, so we stayed here.”

The young templar hesitated, looking between them with a mix of confusion and pity on his face.

“People are moving closer to the big cities,” he said at last. “It’s no longer safe to stay here – after the mages’ rebellion…”

“I know,” Loki interrupted him, dropping his hand to Tony’s shoulder. “Believe me, if there was a choice…”

Tony chuckled, a small, mirthless sound, and his eyes opened to slits. Loki tightened his hand a fraction warningly, but it didn’t stop the man from muttering:

“I told him to go without me, actually.”

“And I said I won’t have it,” Loki retorted, eyes flashing. When he turned back to look at the templar, he found the other man smiling at them wistfully. “Besides, I know that the templars are always watching us,” he added, hoping that the sarcasm didn’t show through in his words. “So it’s still safer for us here than somewhere in the woods, is it not?”

The templar, a fickle thing that he was, seemed to preen at the not-quite-praise.

“Well, so far there wasn’t much trouble with apostates in those parts, not since we made an example of those we found a few weeks back,” he said, clearly proud of himself. Loki swallowed an outrage at his words and forced another smile, aimed to show how grateful he was. “Still, it would be better for you to leave when you can; such places attract a lot of unwanted attention, and who knows what would happen to you if you were found by a group of those abominations.”

“We’ll be on our way as soon as he gets better,” Loki assured him. There was a hint of doubt laden with pity in the light eyes, something that suggested the man considering it to be an “if” and not “when”, but he was tactful enough not to express his thoughts on Tony’s condition. Instead, he nodded and turned to leave.

“I hope your partner will get better soon, then,” he said politely.

“I as well,” Loki nodded, gesturing at the half-empty area of the main room scornfully. “I would have offered you a meal, but I’m afraid that what we have would be more of an offence than a sign of goodwill.”

“It’s alright, we’ll take our leave soon anyway, once we made sure there are no apostates hiding in any of those houses,” the templar joked, saluting to them. “May the Maker be with you both, serahs!”

Loki nodded, the smile still plastered on his face feeling almost painful by now, and closed the door, sliding down as soon as he heard the steps head away from the house, and burying his face in his knees.

They didn’t speak for another few hours, before they were sure the templars left; by that time it has already became dark outside, and it was Tony who spoke first.

“’A partner’, seriously?” he muttered; Loki couldn’t see, not with his face still hidden and with how dark it was inside the house, but he knew from the amused tone that a corner of that mouth quirked up.

“Nobody would have believed us had I said that we were brothers,” he sighed, finally uncoiling and throwing his head back, eyes still closed. “And I can’t imagine even the best friend staying behind in such a situation with no ulterior motives.”

Tony hummed.

“You might have a point,” he said slowly. “Still… darling, I didn’t know you cared!”

Loki growled and thumped his head against the door lightly, but a smile, a relieved, infectious smile, spread on his lips – and this time, it wasn’t forced.

“I believe I told you to shut up,” he groaned exaggeratingly. “Aren’t you supposed to be good in following orders? Or is that order too hard?”

“Kinky,” Tony snickered, and despite himself, Loki found himself laughing with him, the stress of the day finally flowing out. “Now, if only you could repeat the same trick with other patrols, we could actually stay here – I think I’m getting attached to this house…”

“Right,” Loki interrupted him drily. “Because it’s such an amazing idea – to wait for older and more experienced templars to find us and recognize the symptoms of your withdrawal, or better yet – to have your _acquaintances_ find us and recognize _you_! Or anyone who wouldn’t be so afraid of catching a deathly disease and walk close enough to the bed to see your armor, or--”

“Loki.”

Loki paused, only now realizing that he started shouting, visibly shaking. He took a few deep, calming breaths, waiting for the burning feeling behind his lids and tightness in his chest to go away.

When all the adrenaline dissolved, it left his body almost as hollow as it felt when he was drained of mana; no wonder he slipped into hysteria.

“I apologize,” he said roughly.

“No need,” Tony murmured softly, barely audible if not for how quiet it was. “I… thank you. You didn’t have to do it, but… it was quite a show, you know.”

And just like that, Loki slumped, all the remains of tension leaving him at last.

“I’m glad you appreciated it,” he said, suddenly feeling exhaustion overcome him. “Because I’m not doing it ever again.”

He finally drifted off to Tony’s equally tired chuckles and with a small smile on his lips.

 

 


	6. Turn The Tide

By the time Tony felt he was ready to try covering distances longer than the path from what he was beginning to consider ‘their house’ to the village’s well, if his estimations were correct, Loki should’ve been long since gone, most likely running screaming away from him.

Or, well, disappearing quietly in the night. He suspected it was more Loki’s way.

Yet he was still there, patiently walking by Tony’s side as they left the village behind. He had been there the whole time, in fact. At some point, when Tony had felt well enough to actually care about anything else besides excruciating pain set deep in his bones, he was shocked to realize that Loki had stayed and had actually taken care of him.

It was so unbelievable that Tony accepted it as another vivid hallucination and let it slide, paying it little mind.

The funny thing was, it was also coincidentally the turning point, after which Tony really began to recover.

Hallucinations went away; Loki didn’t.

Tony… wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

It made him feel giddy and excited and light-headed – neither of which had anything to do with a prolonged time on his feet again, surprisingly enough – but at the same time, he wanted to die of embarrassment and almost wished Loki had ran away if it meant he wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes ever again.

Tony couldn’t remember when was the last time anyone spent so much time and effort for him when they didn’t have to. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly the ‘not expecting anything in return’, they have established that they were more useful to each other when alive, but with the amount of time wasted while Tony was barely conscious there would’ve been many more reasons to leave him behind. His potential usefulness was vanquished tenfold by all the trouble Loki had to go through for him.

It was… a new experience for him to have someone that _cared_. He could only rely on himself; a son of the Knight-Commander couldn’t allow himself to be weak, and Tony was reminded of that time and time again. To be so completely helpless and dependent on someone else was… anticlimactic.

Although he found that he quite liked the ‘being cared for’ part of it, but Tony did his best to squash it.

Instead, he focused on walking and not passing out on Loki.

Wildervale welcomed them a week later – they could’ve got there much faster had Tony not been slowing them down, but in the end the only thing that mattered was that they made it to their first official destination.

“I would really appreciate it if you considered getting rid of your current attire,” Loki stated matter-of-factly as they walked between the market stalls in the poorest part of the city. Tony scoffed and stroked his not-so-shiny armor protectively, trying to look offended and not just dead tired.

“A fat lot of good it would do us,” he argued. “It kind of kills the main idea where I have to be easily recognized as a templar for us to avoid trouble, doesn’t it?”

Loki stopped and gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised high.

“If I recall correctly,” he drawled, “so far we have encountered your fellow comrades twice, and both times you being a templar only worsened the matter.”

If Loki expected a witty comeback that Tony would’ve given him a few weeks ago… Tony didn’t have one. He bit his lip and turned away, sullenly looking for a more or less decent looking armor. Loki was right, of course; perhaps not about the first time when they met – it hardly mattered who he was back then, but it was because of what he was that the second time occurred at all. Had it been not for his state, they wouldn’t have had to stay in the village and wouldn’t have been surprised by the templars patrol—

There was a soft, barely there touch to his hand, and he snapped from his miserable thoughts, turning his attention back to Loki, who was hovering a step away from him.

“Tony,” he said quietly, letting his hand drop. “You’re—a warrior. Not a templar. I think that would be enough.”

Tony blinked and then smiled at him hesitantly; Loki lowered his eyes, but Tony could see there was a smile tugging at his lips as well.

“Besides,” Loki continued, lighter this time and with a hint of humor in his voice, “if we both looked like commoners, we would attract less attention, don’t you agree?”

He had a point, Tony had to agree begrudgingly.

Parting with his armor was… more difficult than he expected, but at the same time, it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders not only literally, but figuratively as well. It was leaving a part of his past behind; it was… freeing.

As if he had been clinging to that past up until this point, and now came the moment when he stopped being a templar.

Tony… wasn’t sure if he felt more relieved or bitter about it. If he was to be honest with himself, he was mostly scared – after all, it was the only thing he knew. He had yet to learn how _not_ to be a templar, but perhaps for the first time in years, he felt fairly optimistic about his future.

Which was weird, considering the circumstances, but he supposed it was better than succumbing to dark thoughts and depression.

He had had more than enough of that, thank you very much.

After purchasing a set of new clothes, Tony went straight to the room they rented in a small obscure tavern on the outskirts of the city. The room was tiny, with barely enough space for a single bed and a flimsy table that swayed dangerously when he thoughtlessly threw a backpack onto it.

But most importantly, it had a washbasin with a tiny mirror above it in the corner, and Tony could groan at the sight of it. With a freshly acquired bar of soap and a razor in hand, he set to work, the beard he almost got used to suddenly itching with a renewed force.

“You look…” Loki drawled, giving Tony a long, hard look when he finally joined him downstairs. Then the mage hesitated, squinting at him.

“Like shit, I know,” Tony grunted, taking a chair and slumping onto it. With his face almost bare now, it became obvious how hollow his cheeks were, and it was… disheartening.

Loki hummed, leaning onto the table casually.

“I was going to say strange,” he tilted his head curiously and smirked. “But that’s one way to put it. Still… weird to see you out of that armor of yours.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony snorted, rubbing at his face. “You’ve seen me out of it for Maker knows how long. It’s the beard, isn’t it.”

[ ](http://xjapanda.tumblr.com/post/133753473394/art-for-tonystarkfucksarounds-living-on-the-edge)

“You got me there,” Loki chuckled; his hand jerked as if he made to stretch it across the table, but he caught himself and folded his arms instead. “I expected you to shave it completely, actually; the way you kept complaining…”

“What?” Tony gasped in a fake shock and stroked the remaining goatee fondly. Sure, it was a pain in the ass to maintain the peculiar shape, but it was _his_ little weird quirk, and unlike his armor, it wasn’t something he was ready to get rid of. “No way; besides, I look ridiculous with bare face.”

He usually looked way too young without it for his tastes, and at the moment he probably would’ve looked just… even more sick than he already did, but he wasn’t going to clarify.

At least Loki seemed willing enough to let it slide. He offered a small smile and shrugged.

“I suppose,” he hummed. “Beard or not, it is nice to see you looking… simply like a human.”

“I _am_ a human,” Tony sighed softly, his brows pinching for a moment. “Have always been – is me being a--”

Loki shushed him suddenly, green eyes glowing as he irritably looked around them. The tavern was relatively empty at this time of day, but while it meant fewer patrons to overhear them, it also meant less noise for their words to die in.

“—a templar,” Tony continued in a lower voice with a grumble, “is all that defines me?”

Loki eyed him curiously, and there was a shadow of something in his eyes – something Tony couldn’t quite define – but it faded just as soon.

“No,” Loki finally stated after a few moments of silence, and Tony blinked, surprised by his answer. “Not anymore.”

~*~*~

Living in the city, in an actual house with a roof on top, after weeks on the run was surprisingly… novel; Tony didn’t count their stay in the abandoned village, because for one thing, he couldn’t remember most of it anyway, and for the other, they were all alone in an old, dusty house that belonged to someone else. Unwelcome intruders and unfortunate runaways.

Now, though, they had a _room_ in the _city_ , and that made Tony a little lightheaded.

Turned out he almost forgot what it was like to be surrounded by people… or simply walk the streets by himself. It wasn’t even that he got tired of Loki; it was just… he joined the Order pretty early in his life, so there wasn’t many opportunities to wander around the town, and when Tony got assigned to the Circle, most of his time was spent in the Tower.

And so, in a sense, he was enjoying his newly acquired freedom as best as he could – they still had to be discreet, Loki reminded him constantly, in case there were templars from Starkhaven who could recognize him – although he knew better than to put it like this when talking to his mage friend.

Which was another novel thought to ponder.

Were they… friends? Tony grew kind of fond of Loki as they traveled together; the man was gorgeous, had a dry, sharp sense of humor, once he opened up enough to show it, was smart – and damn it, he was there when Tony needed him, even though he didn’t have to be. If anything, it was a reason enough to feel fondly about the guy.

But could he call Loki a friend?

When they had come up with a plan and a route, Tony wasn’t even sure that they would stick together after they reached Wildervale. They both needed to make a stop at the city to make some very much needed money before they set off again, but there was no real need to stay together for that – after all, they only needed each other in case they came across a templars’ patrol on their way, or, you know, bandits, or other troubles where someone who has your back could be useful.

So Tony had kind of expected them to maybe reunite as they were both ready to leave for Cumberland, but not necessarily. In all honesty, he was prepared to never see Loki again as soon as they entered the first city.

Of course, it had been before his lyrium withdrawal kicked in.

And now, weeks later, here they were, still keeping an eye on each other and sharing a room instead of pretending not to know each other whenever their paths crossed accidentally.

Sure, it could have been Loki pitying him, Tony thought as he absently polished a cheap sword. It wasn’t the most challenging or exciting job, but it was a job that paid, however little that was, and, more importantly, it was a job he was capable of.

Because, loath as he was to admit it, there wasn’t that many things he could do in his current state, still weak and tiring quickly as he was.

Tony looked at his distorted reflection on the blade and scowled, pouring some more oil on the cloth in his other hand.

It made sense, he supposed; Loki stayed with him when he was the most vulnerable and incapable of fending for himself, so he could’ve still felt that way – that he had to take care of a helpless, useless, worthless templar that would probably end up on the streets within a few weeks without his help and will never make it to the port on his own. This assumed lack of trust hurt, but Tony had to admit that it wasn’t unwarranted. Right now he thought that he’d find a way out no matter what, but then again, some weeks ago he thought that lyrium withdrawal would leave him no worse for the wear, when in fact he probably would’ve gotten lost somewhere in the woods and end up dead, if it hadn’t been for Loki.

So yeah. If that was what prompted Loki to stay close, it was justified.

If it wasn’t, however…

The sword caught a glint of sun through the gap in the store’s thin wooden wall, and Tony set it aside, reaching for a pair of daggers. One of them was decorated with gems – just a colored glass, most likely – and a forest-green jewel lighted up in the same ray of sunshine, making Tony smile softly at the thought of Loki’s eyes.

He… would have liked them to be friends. He would’ve really liked that, he thought wistfully, running his calloused fingers across the gem; he had never had a lot of friends – or any, come to think of it.

There was Rhodey, Tony remembered with a small smile. A young recruit much like him; when they trained, they seemed to be of the same opinion about the Chantry and the Order, but then Rhodey got transferred to Orlais, and Tony had no idea if they still shared their idealism or if his once best friend changed, as most of other templars did.

Then there was Obadiah, who sometimes had been the only one willing to listen to Tony rant about the injustice in the Circles instead of yelling at him and sending him off like Howard was prone to doing. Obie listened to him and reasoned with him, even if he had never taken Tony seriously – but Tony had considered him to be a friend, for sure.

Fat lot of good it did him in the end.

To some extent, Yinsen probably was – had been, he thought bitterly – his friend as well. It was because of the First Enchanter that Tony didn’t succumb to the other templars’ indolence after the Starkhaven’s fire – after his parents—

He shook himself away from the track his thoughts were taking, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The daggers weren’t going to polish themselves, and if he wanted to get to Antiva, Tony really needed all the money he could make.

The nature of his relationship with Loki mattered very little in comparison; sooner or later their ways would part, and it was better not to get attached.

Tony shook his head and got back to work.

~*~*~

The city was… Not how Loki remembered it, which, in hindsight, was probably to be expected, considering that his memories were coming from a very young age, back before his magic had manifested and he had been conscripted to the Tower.

Granted, it might’ve had something to do with the fact that he had never been on the outskirts of Tantervale, while now he tried to avoid the city center at all costs, but all the same.

And years in the Circle have taken their toll as well.

It was harder than he expected to get accustomed… or re-accustomed, if you will, to freedom, even though Loki couldn’t really remember the time when he didn’t have to fear anything. He remembered the cold terror running in his veins every time he walked alone through the city all too well, always scared that someone would find out what he was and call the templars who would bring him to the Tower full of monsters.

For that had been his worst fear at the time – not the templars, but abominations they had to watch. His father wasn’t a templar, but had plenty of stories about the atrocities mages caused. When his magic manifested, Loki was too young to think that other mages might not be that different from him – he had been terrified of them and of himself and managed to hide his magic for years before, inevitably, he got caught.

That was the last time he remembered being in the city.

Years later, and the streets full of people still brought back unpleasant memories and made him antsy, itching to get back to the safety of their room in the tavern that didn’t seem to care who it was offering shelter to, as long as they paid.

In fact, Loki was pretty sure one of their neighbors was a qunari, and that was… Reassuring, in a sense.

What were a mage and a templar compared to a horned beast?

And for some reason, the thoughts about his templar roommate made Loki feel even more grounded – as if he meant safety now rather than constant threat.

And wasn’t _that_ weird? A templar, someone who was supposed to hate the likes of Loki and embodied everything _Loki_ hated and feared, one of those who--

But he wasn’t just one of them, was he? That was what made Tony… different.

Special, if Loki was honest with himself.

And it wasn’t just that Tony literally couldn’t use his templar abilities, either; his reaction, acceptance and, of all things possible, the fear of being useless mixed with carefully masked fear of being left alone, was what mattered to Loki.

It didn’t hurt as much to admit that he got almost attached to the ridiculous human if he didn’t think of him as a templar, and with every passing day it became easier. He didn’t lie when he told Tony that he didn’t see him just as a former templar anymore.

For some reason Loki couldn’t fathom, the man trusted him to the point where he didn’t even see him as a threat during his feverish paranoia bouts. It had been two weeks since they took residence in Wildervale and even more since Tony last hallucinated – at least as far as Loki was aware – but the more time passed, the more Loki thought about it.

Perhaps because it was either that or sinking into his haunted childhood memories and allowing his own paranoia to encompass him, and frankly, he much preferred the former.

Or maybe it was because Loki still couldn’t decipher what it was that he felt for Tony after all.

He was in front of the tavern, ready to turn in for the day – the sun was already low in the sky, painting it in various shades of orange and pink, and Loki wasn’t a big fan of wandering through the streets after darkness – when he heard the clang of swords.

He froze in place, mind already running through a list of dozens of useful spells he could conjure without his staff, ready to bring them to the tips of his fingers. Was it worth a chance to pretend that he had no idea what was going on and was but a passerby? Should he take the advantage of not having been noticed yet and flee? If he did, should he return later or run for good? Was Tony—did Tony—

It was then, as his mind came to a halt at the thought of Tony, confusing him, that his first reaction was concern for his safety and not fear of betrayal, when Loki heard a laughter followed by a familiar grunt and a tired chuckle.

The former belonged to children from the sound of it; the latter he recognized as Tony’s and relaxed immediately.

It would’ve been worrying that the blasted templar had such a power over him had he not been so relieved that whatever he had just overheard obviously wasn’t an attack. Curiosity now piqued, Loki followed the voices to the backyard, peeking around the corner to take in the small space behind the tavern. Predictably enough, Tony was standing in the middle, shirtless, leaning heavily on his sword and grinning wide.

Loki felt his breath hitch.

“You’re a shitty swordsman,” a gruff voice of the tavern’s keeper came from the backdoor, tearing his eyes away from Tony’s sleek, straining form, to notice another man with his two sons watching what had to be Tony’s practice. The older of the boys snickered; the younger seemed to be too mesmerized by the sun reflecting in the sword’s blade to notice. “But you seem to know how not to kill yourself with that thing… and I think I can trust you not to kill my son with it, either,” the elderly man stated, giving Tony a scrutinized look before nodding, obviously satisfied. “That’s all I’m asking for; I don’t think I can find anyone better for that money, eh,” he shrugged, and Tony chuckled, straightening and running the fingers of his free hand through his messy hair.

“That money, he says; hey, I’m literally agreeing to train your brat for free here!”

“That’s free rent _and_ food for you! And you’re not even that good with sword; you’re robbing me, is what’s going on here!”

Both boys snickered, and Loki found himself chuckling with them, leaning against the tavern’s wall. That seemed to quickly bring Tony’s attention to him, and Loki watched his handsome face brighten as he noticed him. The keeper followed his gaze and nodded his greetings to Loki, looking way too pleased and satisfied for a man who complained about a poor bargain. Then he ushered his sons back to the tavern, leaving Tony and Loki alone in the backyard.

“Hey,” Tony called, puffing his chest out and inadvertently pulling Loki’s eyes to his torso. It was painfully obvious that he had lost a lot of weight and was still recovering from his lyrium addiction, but even so there was… enough to look at. Loki blinked and quickly averted his gaze, choosing instead to look Tony in the eyes. If Tony noticed him staring, he didn’t comment on it. “Did you hear that? I just saved us a hell lot of money,” he preened, yanking his sword from where it was pushed into the ground and swirling with a blinding grin.

Loki found himself admiring the gracious moves and the way Tony’s muscles danced with every lunge, glistening with sweat in the dying sunlight. He wasn’t as fast or fluent as he was a few weeks ago, when Loki had the chance to see him in a fight, but that was understandable – the lack of practice and overall exhaustion were showing – but still Loki couldn’t imagine how the keeper could mistake Tony for an amateur warrior, unless that was Tony’s intention.

“Impressing,” Loki drawled, crossing his arms. “Are you… sure it’s wise, though?”

“Why? You think I’ll be that terrible as a teacher?” Tony pouted, although Loki could see there wasn’t any real offence there; his warm brown eyes were laughing, and he felt a smile tug on his lips as well.

He couldn’t care less what teacher Tony would be, but he didn’t want the stubborn man to overexert himself out of some stupid notion that he was useless now and thus had to prove his worth; Loki wasn’t going to tell him as much, though, so he shrugged and walked closer.

“Why don’t we find out?” he asked instead, taking two wooden swords that were probably meant for the keeper’s son practice from the bench and tossing one to Tony, who caught it with his free hand and blinked at Loki, surprised. “I believe you offered me lessons once.”

“I did,” Tony nodded, watching Loki curiously as he weighed the practice sword and slowly walked to the bench to deposit the real one on it carefully. “Never thought you’d take me up on that, though.”

“Yet here I am,” Loki mockingly bowed and grinned, ignoring the weird flutter in his chest at Tony’s teasing smirk. “Consider me as a test subject for your teaching methods; if they prove to be successful, perhaps you could take more apprentices and make some actual money.”

“Don’t like my job, do you?” Tony’s grin turned a little forced, proving once again that it was a sore subject for him, but he seemed to know that Loki was just teasing – and for some reason that easy acceptance made Loki a little lightheaded. “Well, serah, tell you what – perhaps I’ll follow your advice and do just that, show you what _real_ job is like!”

“Excuse me?” Loki protested haughtily, following Tony back to the middle of backyard. “There is nothing wrong with _my_ job!”

“Yeah, because selling potions is very reliable source of income and not suspicious at all,” Tony muttered, making Loki huff and roll his eyes.

When Tony first found out that Loki offered his assistance to the local drugstore, he was furious, and Loki almost believed that he was no different from other templars, after all, hating everything that had something to do with magic; it turned out that this wasn’t the issue, though, when in the very next breath Tony confessed that he didn’t want Loki to risk being caught, the raw concern in his eyes making it hard not to take his words at face value. They fought about it, and in the end Tony relented, reluctantly admitting that Loki had every right to do as he pleases with his life and knew what he was doing. Surprisingly, the victory wasn’t as sweet as Loki expected, though, since Tony’s concern and acknowledgment actually warmed him inside.

Really, it was just nice to know that somebody _cared_.

“Are you going to teach me or what?” he asked, poking Tony with the sword; Tony laughed and swatted him away, taking a fighting stance and gesturing for Loki to mirror it.

“For the record – notice how I’m absolutely _not_ rubbing it into your face how you protested against this idea when I first suggested it,” he teased.

“Notice how I don’t need the sword to rub your face into the ground,” Loki shot back darkly with a nasty glare, to which Tony laughed again.

He must’ve spent too much time in the sun gathering the herbs for his potions, Loki decided as he listened to Tony’s instructions on his stance and the grip he had on the sword, so different from the staff he was used to.

Surely that explained why he was feeling so dizzy all of a sudden.

~*~*~

In the end, they spent a little over the month in Wildervale, and by the time they were ready to leave they had more than enough money saved to afford two horses and reasonably comfortable passage to Antiva and Tevinter accordingly.

The closer they got to Cumberland, though, the more thoughtful Tony became.

It seemed that he did end up getting attached to Loki, after all. He tried not to dwell on his feelings while they were both working their asses off, taking on any job they were offered, but with their goodbyes not far away now it was hard not to think about it.

Tony knew he would miss Loki when they would finally and inevitably part ways. He would miss his teasing and their conversations, the way his tense, warded expression melted away when Loki got back into the safety of their room and how his green eyes lighted up with mischief sometimes; the way Loki wrinkled his nose at the sour smell of ale at the busiest hours in the tavern, or sent overly amorous drunken patrons away with a single glare that promised retribution better than a sword at Tony’s side.

The way their room always smelt of herbs Loki collected during the day out of the city.

Or how they shared the bed, both too exhausted by the end of the day for it to be even remotely awkward.

He probably wouldn’t miss teaching Loki sword fighting, though – _that_ was as terrible as it could get, their lessons ending with them both yelling at each other more often than not, both frustrated and fuming. Tony trying to make Loki understand that this was something to be taken seriously and Loki firmly set up on the idea of it being useless for a mage, insisting that he only needed to know how to pass for a warrior should the need arise and not actually become one—

Oh, who was he kidding. Tony would probably miss their lessons the most.

He was so screwed.

They didn’t talk about their plans for the upcoming future, and Tony had no idea how to bring it up – and even if he had, what could he possibly say to Loki?

‘Hey, I think I’m kind-of-maybe falling for you, do you want to run to Antiva with me’?

Yeah, because it would go so well.

On the last day of their journey to Cumberland they both stayed completely silent. Tony caught Loki’s thoughtful glances a couple of times, – he probably got too used to Tony’s incessant chatter during their time together, – but he didn’t try to break the silence, either.

“So… We’re here,” Tony muttered as they finally reached the port. They still had to wait until the next morning at least, but probably not much longer than that – Cumberland was a port city, and there was no shortage in the departing ships.

“Yes,” Loki agreed, humming softly. “We are here.”

It was hard to discern what he was thinking of, his expression unreadable in the early evening light, so naturally, Tony started babbling.

“You sure you didn’t change your mind about Antiva? I think you could use some sun on that skin,” his grin probably looked forced, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about it at the moment, squinting at the sea in front of them and breathing in the salty air. “And we could continue our lessons, because at the point we stopped, it would probably only do you more harm than good--”

“In that case, you could join me in Tevinter,” Loki interrupted him with a thin smile. “I heard the sun isn’t that bad there, either, but comes with an added bonus of free mages.”

Tony scowled, frowning slightly, and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, also blood magic and slavery,” he muttered under his breath, still refusing to meet Loki’s eyes. “Besides, what is there for me to do?”

“And what is there for me in Antiva?” Loki retorted sharply, and when Tony chanced a glance at his face, it was more pained than angry. “Or would you have me hide what I am for the rest of my life?”

That was… Hard to counter, Tony had to admit as he winced, nodding absently to indicate that he could see Loki’s point.

It would’ve probably been for the best to let the issue drop – they have already had this argument, and they have both agreed not to discuss it any further. Despite everything that screamed at Tony that it had taken place before they formed some sort of camaraderie, he knew he had to respect Loki’s decision and just let him be. There was no use in overthinking it _now,_ and besides, he wasn’t even sure if that was something Loki wanted – actually, no, he was pretty sure it wasn’t, and he bit his tongue before he could offer some other compromise, somewhere they could go together.

Beside him, Loki took a deep breath.

“Not to mention,” he said slowly, “that the majority of our knowledge about Tevinter most likely consists of stereotypes, which might be proven to be all wrong. And I doubt every newcomer is obliged to get a slave,” he added with a smallest of smiles, but it still was enough to make Tony’s heart flutter treacherously.

“I’m more worried about every newcomer being sold into slavery, actually,” he joked weakly, smiling back uncertainly; it seemed to be a wrong thing to say, though, since Loki’s expression grew tense again.

“So you still find the idea of a land where mages are free repulsive?” he wondered absently, and Tony thought he heard disappointment and regret in his voice.

He shook his head and sighed, adjusting the strap of his backpack to occupy his hands.

“You know I don’t,” he said quietly. “But… Seriously, Loki, Tevinter? Can you imagine me there? A templar among the mages,” he huffed indignantly, rolling on his heels.

“I can,” Loki replied softly, but when Tony looked at him sharply, surprised by the answer, Loki had already turned away, back to the city. “But it hardly matters. Farewell, Tony; for what it’s worth, I’m glad to have made your acquaintance.”

Tony blinked, watching his retreat, and nodded slowly, shoulders sagging a little.

“Yeah,” he muttered, even as he was sure that Loki couldn’t hear him anymore. “Me too.”

~*~*~

Tony had a room of his own that night, but not even a decent dinner could chase away a heavy feeling that settled in his gut after they parted. He found little sleep as well despite having the bed all for himself, missing the scent of elfroot that lulled him to sleep every night for the past month.

The ship to Antiva was sailing off early in the morning. After a restless night Tony felt fully in his right to sleep in, promptly missing it and absolutely unable to bring himself to care in the slightest.

He spent the next day wandering through the city and thinking.

A lot.

But at the same time, there wasn’t that much to think about, was there?

He could wait for the next ship to Antiva, hope that he could find his mother’s relatives – provided they still lived there – and that they would take him in, then start a new life; or he could join Loki on the ship to Tevinter that was departing the next afternoon and hope for the best.

There were too many if’s, of course, and it would’ve probably been for the best if he left Loki alone. Maker, he didn’t even know if Loki really wanted him there; then again, if he didn’t, why would he mention anything at all, making it seem like a valid option for Tony as much as for himself?

And he would be starting from the beginning anyway, but at least in once case he wouldn’t have to be alone.

Damn it, it was at least worth a chance.

It was easy to spot Loki in the crowd – by now it seemed like Tony could somehow feel him, was drawn to him, but he brushed these thoughts and the faint tugging in his chest away for the moment, making his way to the sullen-looking mage waiting at the docks.

“It’s good to see you didn’t get into any trouble while I was away,” he quipped cheerfully, halting only a step away from Loki.

Loki startled, his head snapping up to look at Tony, eyes almost comically wide on his bewildered face.

“What are you doing here?” Loki inquired, and Tony had to fight a ridiculous impulse to lift his slacked jaw. He shrugged and grinned innocently instead, turning to look at the ship.

“I’d say I was already on my way to Antiva when I realized that I would miss you too terribly,” he teased, bumping their shoulders lightly, “but unfortunately, it’s nothing that dramatic. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said, that we only know rumors about Tevinter,” Tony shifted on his feet, squinting at the sun. “And it kind of started driving me mad, you know? Who knows what’s actually going on there; I couldn’t miss a perfect chance to find out first hand, now could I?”

“No,” Loki agreed slowly, a beginning of a smile spreading over his lips. “I suppose you couldn’t.”

Tony nodded, satisfied, and tried not to fidget too much.

“So what do you think? Will there be a place for a former templar in evil Tevinter, hm?”

“It will have to be,” Loki stated, his certainty infectious; the nervousness Tony might’ve felt when he got to the port has all but disappeared now. “I’m a mage, remember? And we will be in the only place where it actually means something, so I’ll be able to make sure of it.”

“I couldn’t ask for more,” Tony said with a wide grin that Loki returned fully, and for a crazy moment Tony was almost ready to kiss him, but then they were boarding and the moment had passed; it was alright, though.

There would be time for that later.

He just made sure of it.

 


	7. Fly Away From Here

There were two days in Loki’s life that remained at the forefront of his memory, no matter how many years have passed – one being the day his magic manifested, and the other when he was taken to the circle.

The day they docked at Minrathous had every potential of becoming another such moment, but unlike the other two – a happy one, for a change, that didn’t wake Loki up in the dead of the night drenched in cold sweat.

No; if he had ever made a right decision, this was it. Whatever doubts Tony might’ve had about it – and as much as he hated to admit it, Loki would’ve been lying if he’d said that Tony’s apprehension has never got to him – were proved to be wrong: a year into their new lives in Tevinter, and Loki has never been happier.

This was everything he has ever dreamed of and more. It was a country where mages were _free_ , where he didn’t have to hide his very nature or fear for his life just because of what he was; he didn’t need to pretend that his staff was a walking stick anymore, and the best thing –

He didn’t need to _choose_ between hiding and actually learning something about his magic.

On his third day in Tevinter, Loki had fallen in love with Minrathous’s grand library, enthralled by the sheer amount of knowledge it held – knowledge that otherwise would have been inaccessible to him. Now that he lived here, though, it was at his disposal, and it made Loki lightheaded and giddy.

And on top of that… he wasn’t alone.

Despite his initial discomfort, Tony stayed with him. Granted, it probably wasn’t as special to him as it was to Loki – Tony wasn’t a mage, couldn’t feel the vast difference the way Loki could, and here, in the land of mages, life must have been… hard for him, who used to be a Templar, an authority of sorts.

It wasn’t like that here. Here, Loki was the one who held the power; he used to feel almost guilty for bringing Tony with him for the first couple of months, but it had passed – after all, it had been Tony’s decision, and it wasn’t like the sudden drop of influence was that big of a deal. He wasn’t being imprisoned and held captive against his will, with the excuses that it was done merely for his safety; he had a job, the city guard having taken him in without hesitation, and a place to live – all to himself as of late. They have shared a house until a little less than a month ago, but then Tony decided to move out.

While it was puzzling – Loki didn’t mind company, and the house they moved into once they could afford something other than a room in a small tavern was certainly big enough for two – he took it as a sign that Tony was finally getting comfortable enough here to settle down, and it was… good to know, really.

He was happy for Tony and relieved that the man who followed him here was finally getting a life for himself, and wasn’t at all bitter or, Maker forbid, hurt.

Loki took a deep breath and shook his head, frowning at the page in front of him that he’s been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes.

It’s been only a few short weeks without Tony living here – and they haven’t even stopped seeing each other, meeting at least once in two days, more regularly now that Tony more or less settled in his new house – but Maker, did he miss the man.

Not that he would ever admit it, of course. He didn’t become what he was now, a respected and in some cases – feared Laetan, because of sentiments. He knew better than to grow attached, and for all good that was in Tevinter, sometimes all it took was one small misstep for one to lose everything: their position in society, the respect of others and what power they have gathered.

Loki has never had any real interest in politics, but he’d be damned if he was going to give up all he had gained since coming here.

Which, for a foreigner, was a lot, and he worked _hard_ for that. In another year or two, at most, if everything went according to his plans, he was going to get a position in the Senate – not in the Magisterium at first, of course, but Loki was fairly optimistic that in time he’d could get there, as well, despite being a foreigner.

What could he say? He had his way with words.

He also had a huge advantage over nearly any mage here – unlike them, he knew a different life, and he knew what was at stake, thus he valued what he had now much more than they did.

And he certainly wasn’t going to allow whatever he felt for Tony to distract him.

Overcoming the desire to snap the book shut and head out for a walk, Loki focused on the words that have been eluding him all afternoon.

Blood magic, it turned out, was even easier than he suspected, and just as he thought, not at all what the Circle used to tell them. There was nothing evil in blood magic itself; like with any other schools of magic, it was the intentions that could tint it as ‘good’ or ‘bad’.

Magic wasn’t defied by these categories, though. Right now, it was power – the power that allowed Loki to stay on the top of his class and differed him from others, who couldn’t be bothered to spend some of their precious time on studying and reading books, choosing instead the easiest way out in the form of dealing with demons, or those who were too principled and insisted on following the laws that nobody cared for.

It was a good thing Loki was neither.

~*~*~

“Bring us another bottle of wine, slave!”

Tony gritted his teeth, pointedly ignoring the presumptuous request and barely holding back a strong desire to pour the said bottle of wine over the woman’s gorgeous (and undoubtedly costly) gown. Manners aside, she was most likely a powerful mage – they _all_ were, except for Tony, he thought sourly – and such behavior could end up with him being set on fire to the excitement of a bored crowd.

Maker, he hated these parties.

It was always the same – nobles showing off in front of each other, commoners that were lucky enough to get an invitation trying to get into their good graces, vague threats being exchanged… he wasn’t even sure what _he_ was doing here – but for whatever reason, Loki seemed to enjoy such events, and Tony was a weak man who couldn’t say no to those huge pleading eyes.

Well, that and the fact that he despised staying alone even more than being exposed to the finest Tevinter society.

Even when said society had a tendency to mistake him for _Loki’s slave._ And Loki…

Loki was so fucking naïve.

He had been outraged the first few times it happened, perhaps even more so than Tony – who was pissed, of course, but not exactly surprised by such progression; it would’ve been way more heartwarming had Loki not believed that his words alone were enough to change the nobility’s opinion about the nature of their relations, though.

The only thing he accomplished was to start a rumor that the newest addition to the city’s upper class had some weird quirks and was very precise about his prized slave, didn’t like it if he was called a slave and didn’t tolerate if he was mistreated by others. Since Loki was an enigma, but an enigma that, obviously, proved to be rather powerful in terms of magic (something that Tony preferred not to think of, suspecting that he’d sleep better if he didn’t know how Loki proved himself among the Tevinter mages), nobody wanted to fall into his bad graces, so his wishes were respected when he was around, and Loki seemed quite happy about it.

Behind his back Tony was still considered to be a slave, but Loki either didn’t realize it or didn’t care, and Tony didn’t have the heart to break that safe bubble for him.

(There was also a not-so-small part of Tony that didn’t want to know the answer; despite everything, he still liked Loki, and he really, really didn’t want to risk hearing ‘so what’ as a reaction to him being still called a slave.)

Besides, after a year here Loki had gained some reputation, and if it suddenly turned out that he wasn’t, in fact, a dark deviant mage with elaborate tastes and one favorite slave, but a usual foreigner who detested slavery like every other normal person…

Tony didn’t want to do it to him.

Loki was happy here; he knew he’d be miserable in Tevinter no matter what, but this way he could at least be happy for Loki, so there was that.

“Did you hear me, slave? I told you to--”

“A _Soporati,”_ Tony hissed through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the woman who was still staring at him impatiently. “Have you ever heard the word? Maker, I’m not even local, and I know your social classes better than you do. Not everyone who doesn’t possess magic is a slave!”

The woman pursued her lips, but then her eyes darted to the side, and a forged smile spread on her face. Tony knew those kind of smiles very well – it was a ‘You’re an insolent brat and need a proper training to learn your place, but here comes your master, and if I tell him as much, he’d be very cross with me, so I’ll keep my mouth shut – but don’t think for a second I believe you’ smile.

Somehow, this was his life now. He was a proper citizen of Tevinter, was a part of the city’s guard, got a house of his own recently, and still everyone saw him as little more than a pampered toy of a mage.

Perhaps it wasn’t that far off the truth, he mused silently, forcing a smile of his own as Loki wandered to his side, exchanging a few words with the woman – a Magister, it seemed; in some perverse sense it filled Tony with dark satisfaction that he could mouth off at someone from the Senate and get away with it, just because it was, apparently, a bad taste to hurt someone else’s slaves, even if it meant that he was essentially accepting the role of Loki’s slave.

On the other hand, _not_ accepting it didn’t really change anything, so he could at least take whatever benefits there were.

“Is everything alright?” Loki inquired when the woman left to pester someone else. “You looked…”

“As usual,” Tony interrupted him. He sighed and rubbed at his forehead, forcing the irritation he felt down. This was not a place or a time to make a scene. “You know I don’t like these parties.”

Loki frowned, touching his arm lightly.

“I don’t think anyone truly enjoys them,” he muttered, and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “It’s a good opportunity to make new acquaintances, though; I thought you were of the same opinion?”

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes; Loki’s hand fell off, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah,” he quipped back. “For a mage? Sure. For me? It’s mostly just free drinks.” That he only got when Loki was around; the slaves were not supposed to drink wine meant for their masters, unless their masters wanted them to, but again, this was not something Loki needed to know. He didn’t pass the opportunity to grab a full glass from the tray as an elven slave walked by, though.

“Well,” Loki huffed, and now there were irritated notes in his tone, as well as an icy look in his eyes. “If you dislike it that much, I suppose you could always go _home_ ; I merely thought you’d like to spend some time together, since we don’t see each other that much now that you moved out.”

That made Tony’s eyebrows shot up; he blinked at Loki, who was suddenly very interested in the embroidery on his robe’s sleeve.

It was the first time he expressed any emotions concerning their new living arrangements – so far he’d been extremely polite when he congratulated Tony on getting a place of his own, if perhaps somewhat surprised. He kept it very… impersonal, to the point where Tony started wondering if he cared about it at all, or if it made no difference whatsoever to him whether Tony lived in the same house or not.

But it seemed that he was at least a little put off by it as well, which was… nice to know, because Tony absolutely hated that he had to leave, no matter that it was his decision in the first place.

For the past month that he’d been living on his own he didn’t have a single full night sleep, not to mention that he didn’t feel safe at home anymore. He was missing Loki terribly, but at the same time he knew it couldn’t go on like that forever. Loki was moving forward while Tony was staying back – it was only a matter of time before his developing unhappiness started showing, and he didn’t want Loki to see it, just as he didn’t really want to know what his reaction would be.

In other words, he didn’t want Loki sad and he wasn’t sure he could stand it if Loki became annoyed with him for being unhappy in the land he loved so much, and so he acted like a responsible adult would and ran away from his problems.

Though it wasn’t that simple, of course. For all that he tried to mostly ignore the common delusion about his social class, it was slowly becoming too much, and Tony hoped that finding a house, even if it was far from the fancy one Loki managed to get them, could be the first step to improve the situation; perhaps in time they’d start calling him liberati, a freed slave, and then…

Then, most likely, they’d forget about him.

He didn’t even feel slightly hurt at the thought – half a year ago he would’ve protested that even for a ‘slave’ he was too handsome and outstanding to be forgotten, but right now, he only felt tired and miserable, the need to constantly suppress his feeling grating on his nerves and weighting him down, threating to either explode one day or break him eventually.

“Tony?”

He startled, emerging from his thoughts to find Loki watching his face carefully, the cold expression giving way to concern.

“Yeah,” he nodded absently. “Sorry, I kind of… zoned out.”

“I noticed,” Loki’s frown deepened, and he looked around with a scowl before taking Tony by elbow and leading him to the exit. “I think we could take our leave; how do you feel about a walk?”

Tony didn’t particularly care for a walk – although the part of him that wasn’t hollow and tired was pretty excited that he got to spend some time with _Loki_ , and not in the ridiculous ‘let’s attend this party together and call it a shot, even if we’re not actually talking to each other the whole night’ way – but he was more than happy to leave, so he nodded and allowed Loki to haul him outside, walking silently by his side.

No wonder everyone mistook him for a slave; he behaved like an obedient pet, didn’t he?

He gulped in the fresh air as soon as they were out, enjoying the slight chill – the winter here wasn’t as cold as it used to get in Starkhaven. The temperature was comfortable, even more so after spending so much time in suffocating and hot rooms of the mansion they just left. The sky was already dark, two moons rising slowly, and the streets were mostly empty – the majority of citizens were probably attending one party or another, and those who weren’t were sulking at their homes.

Like this, with no arrogant asses or mistreated slaves in sight, Tony could almost forget where he was and enjoy the small things – the nice weather, the stars on the sky that looked different here… Loki’s presence.

“Is something the matter?” Loki wondered softly after a few moments of silence as they started walking in the general direction of their – no, Loki’s – house. “I understand that you do not find such gatherings enjoyable, but you never looked… so distressed as you did tonight.”

Tony chuckled mirthlessly and ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the pavement under their feet.

“Just tired; don’t mind me, seriously.”

“Why not leave, then?” Loki pressed, and when Tony looked up, his lips were thinned into a straight line.

How was Tony to tell him that nobody would ever let him leave the party alone, unless it was an explicit order coming from Loki?

He shrugged and shook his head.

“It’s not bad,” he muttered. “Besides, you did say you wanted to spend some time together; it would’ve been rude to leave in the middle of spending time with you without informing you first.”

Loki paused in his steps, taken aback. Tony winced; he didn’t mean to sound so bitter, but it was too late now.

“If you detest my company so much…” he drawled, and if Tony didn’t know better, he would’ve said that Loki looked hurt.

“I don’t detest your company,” he snapped impatiently. “You just chose a rather questionable excuse to _spend time together_ , is all. We both know that such parties are designed for anything but _that_.”

“Don’t you?” Loki sneered, his steps fastening slightly, ignoring Tony’s point completely. “First you decide that sharing a house is no longer convenient, now you criticize my attempts to keep in touch – you could have just refused! Or did you want to spare my feelings?”

“Don’t give me that,” Tony hissed, trying to keep up with the faster pace. “If I had enough of you, I could always leave this rotten country, yet I’m still here.”

That seemed to shut Loki up – Tony could almost hear his jaw snapping, whatever arguments he had lost, and for another few minutes they walked in silence.

It wasn’t a comfortable silence they used to share a year ago, though – now it was tense, full of hidden frustrations and omissions, and Tony wanted to _scream_.

 _How_ was this his life?

His job as a city guard was to turn a blind eye at the right moments and nothing more; his best friend – his _only_ friend here – was enjoying his newly acquired power and freedom and wasn’t bothered in the slightest that they were living amongst slavery and corruption; blood magic was a norm, prohibited by law that everyone blatantly ignored.

And to think Loki had once cheerfully tried to convince him it wasn’t so _bad_ in Tevinter.

The worst part, though?

He still liked the asshole.

It was maddening; there was so much _wrong_ here, he _hated_ it here, and still he couldn’t find a single fault in Loki, instead always finding new excuses for him. Loki wasn’t like other mages; Loki didn’t excuse slavery, just ignored it because there was nothing he could do about it anyway, and trying to change anything now would only end up in more trouble for everyone; if anyone, Loki deserved to live somewhere where mages were free and could be educated without being imprisoned…

There was that, and much more.

There was also looking forward to coming home to him, where Loki had been sitting over his books for the whole day, his back hunched, nibbling on his quill; there was his bright and open smile, so different from the guarded one he gave Tony when they still were in Free Marches—

The way Loki slowly unraveled, overcoming years of suffering in the Circle and the constant fear of getting caught, had been enough for Tony to forget about everything he had to endure during the day at one time.

He knew that he had to move out the first time Loki brought home someone from one of the parties, though.

It only went downhill since then, and instead of fluttering every time he saw Loki smile, his heart started clenching painfully, filling him with a bitter sense of determination. He couldn’t stay forever; he was overstaying his welcome – friends they might be, but their lives were going separate ways, and Tony didn’t want it to become… awkward.

Well, more awkward than it already was.

Even so, he hesitated, waiting for some other reason – or, if he was honest with himself, for some excuse to stay.

But when Loki started bringing one-night stands home regularly, Tony started looking for a house for himself.

He wasn’t jealous; _he wasn’t_ – a little resentful, perhaps, but there was nothing to be jealous of, not really. They weren’t in a relationship or anything – and it was unlikely to happen at all, since Tevinter had some fucked up ideas about sexuality, and anything beyond a fling with the same sex was frowned upon.

Tony didn’t want to be just a fling.

Loki probably didn’t want to be frowned upon.

It was all for the best, really.

~*~*~

There were times – that he wasn’t proud of – when Loki almost envied the Tranquil, wishing he could _feel_ less.

He hated these thoughts, but he hated the mad rush of feelings almost as much.

And it was _hard_ not to feel – at least, he was finding out, when it concerned Tony. Since their last meeting at the party almost two weeks ago he could think of little else, and it was driving him crazy.

Tony was growing distant, that much was clear, no matter what the man himself had to say on the matter, and despite having made new friends, Loki didn’t like it. Their friendship was precious to him in a special way, and he didn’t want to lose it.

He had no idea how to save it, however, and Tony wasn’t helping.

_If I had enough of you, I could always leave this rotten country, yet I am still here._

What was that supposed to _mean?_

Tony more or less said that he hated Tevinter, after all, so Loki supposed that his earlier assumptions about him settling down at last were wrong. He felt terrible, but it actually was relieving somehow; at least Tony didn’t leave because he no longer needed Loki and wanted to get on with his own life.

It didn’t answer the question _why_ he left, though.

Loki groaned and tugged at his hair in frustration, stopping in front of a window to look at the street. He left a red smear on the glass when he leaned forward and traced the edge of a snow pattern descending from the window frame, and absently noticed that his arm was still bleeding from the last spell he performed – he had a nasty encounter this morning with two Magisters who believed him to be an imposter and tried to… dispose of him.

He was having none of that. He didn’t take their lives, but he knew that they would think twice before assaulting him again next time.

There was a knock on the door, and Loki flinched, forgetting about the gash and walking down the stairs to see to his visitor. He really needed to get some servants; of course he would pay them, but Maker, he could use a pair of hands now that he was alone in the house that was meant for two.

Well, it was probably meant for more, but since he was choosing it when they still shared apartments with Tony, he considered it to be _theirs_.

Mood dropping even further, he snapped the door open wide.

A frown promptly fell from his face as he saw Tony on the threshold, and Loki stepped aside, letting him in with a small smile. Tony nodded his greetings, smiling sheepishly and rubbing his hands together from the slight chill outside.

“Hey,” he muttered, brushing the flakes of snow from his shoulders. “Sorry I came without invitation.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Loki arched an eyebrow, wondering what caused the comment as he closed the door; Tony met his eyes with a soft smirk and shrugged.

“You are a busy man now; I’d hate to interrupt something.”

That made Loki chuckle and roll his eyes; they walked into the living room together, where he sent a spark of fire into the fireplace. As usually, Tony immediately shuffled closer, drawn by the heat; it never failed to amuse Loki how much the man detested cold.

“Very funny,” he huffed. “You know I never do any business here.”

Tony hummed thoughtfully, but didn't answer; Loki narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the meaning behind his demeanor.

He was a chatterbox, anyways lively and loud, full of stupid jokes and inappropriate remarks. To see him so… desolate was unusual, to say the least, and slightly worrying – but there was little Loki could do unless Tony told him what was wrong, and Tony clearly didn't want to tell him anything lately.

The ‘rotting country’ still rang in Loki's head, and he felt his stomach twist in knots, dreading something.

“Right. Anyway,” Tony muttered, watching the flames lick at the firewood. “I, um… was a little harsh the last time we talked, I think.”

Loki's face softened, and he walked to where a bottle of wine was standing on the end table, pouring it into two glasses.

“It's alright,” he assured Tony. “I think I might have deserved it; you don't have to accompany me to every such gathering, and I shouldn't have assumed…”

Tony snorted and shook his head, glancing at Loki over his shoulder.

“Right,” he repeated, and Loki paused, puzzled by the sarcasm dripping from the single word.

It didn't sound right at all. The worrisome tugging at his gut was back; nothing was ever so easy, was it?

Tony cleared his throat and finally turned around; Loki felt taken aback at the sight. Here, in the firelight, Tony looked… exhausted; the last time Loki saw him like this was when he was suffering from the lyrium withdrawal, and that had been over a year ago.

“Anyway, it doesn't matter,” Tony said at last, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I came to…”

His eyes suddenly fell to Loki's arm, and he stiffened, the expression on his face going hard; whatever he meant to say was forgotten.

“What's that?”

Loki glanced at the wound and shrugged nonchalantly, cursing his luck silently. He knew how Tony felt about blood magic, and so far they avoided the topic, but he supposed that sooner or later it had to come out. It was just his luck that it would happen at a moment like this, when their relationship was tense as it is.

Tony didn't look forlorn anymore; for a moment, he looked furious – and then his expression twisted, transforming to hurt and betrayed.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” he hissed. “Seriously?!”

“I was attacked,” Loki protested icily, deliberately leaving out any details of the encounter he had; Tony could come to his own conclusion--

“And there was no way to fight without blood magic?!”

\--and of course he came to the right one. Loki knew he must've showed his surprise, because Tony's eyebrows shot up, and he cringed in disgust.

“What, was I supposed to think that you got hurt in the fight and pity you?! Do you think I’m blind? That’s a very fucking specific gash! One that, might I add, every second mage here sports and shows off with pride,” he spluttered, throwing both of his arms up and pacing around the room.

And then he stopped abruptly, his back to Loki, still tense and agitated.

“How long?” Tony asked gravely; Loki gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.

“Tony…”

“How. Long.”

“Why does it matter to you?” he exploded, causing Tony to face him again. “Are you going to tell me that as long as it’s the first time, you’re alright with it?!”

Tony narrowed his eyes dangerously, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“But it’s not the first time,” he stated rather than asked, and the disappointment in his eyes was almost worse than anger. “And here I thought you were better than that.”

“Better than what, Anthony?!” Loki snarled, baring his teeth. “I am a mage, of course I’m going to use magic! Does that come as a surprise to you? I thought you would notice, after a year,” he growled, fighting with the desire to break something or scream.

“And I thought you could do magic without turning to demons!” Tony shouted in turn; Loki threw his hands up and moved to the couch rapidly, grabbing a book that was left open on the pillows.

“If you consider books to be demons, than no, I can’t!” he yelled back, barely resisting the urge to throw the book at Tony. “It’s just magic – like any other kinds of spells! You don’t _have_ to contact _anyone_ to learn it or use it! Get over it, Anthony; there’s nothing evil in knowledge!”

“Oh, excuse me,” Tony drawled, crossing his arms over his chest, closing up. “How could I think otherwise! Would you like me to go to the library and bring you some more books to study to show how deeply I regret my mistake? No, wait – I can’t do it, _slaves aren’t allowed inside without their masters_ ,” he sneered, his eyes cold and mocking and _hurt_.

Loki took a step back, scowling, and tightened his hold on the dusty tome.

“Just what are you talking about?” he growled, feeling a headache pulsing in his temples; on top of it, his arm was starting to ache – probably because now he was hyper-aware of the cut on it. “If you’re going to say that because I use blood magic _occasionally,_ I’m going to enslave you, I swear to Maker, Anthony--”

“You could, you know,” Tony spat out venomously. “Blood magic or no, it wouldn’t really make any difference; everyone considers me to be your slave anyway, so why not act on it?”

Loki hissed, appalled by the assumption. His head was swimming; he never thought that _Tony_ of all people would suggest anything like _that_.

“It’s ridiculous,” he said coldly, straightening and trying to get a hold of himself before he did something he would regret later. “You _know_ I would never do it.”

“Yeah, I also thought you would never turn to blood magic,” Tony retorted bitterly. “Yet here we are. How long will it take you to change your mind about other things as well?”

Loki flinched as if he was struck, eyes going wide with disbelief and hurt.

“Is that what you think of me?” he demanded; Tony just glared at him stubbornly.

He felt anger boil inside of him, threatening to spill over – and right now, Loki saw no reason to stop it.

“I see,” he muttered. “It would seem we both were mistaken, then; for I thought you were different as well, and yet you obviously can’t accept the world where you no longer hold a leash in your hands, where the mages are free to do what they please with their lives.”

It was Tony’s turn to take a deep breath, hissing in the air, and his hands fell to his sides as he looked at Loki – and it felt like another hit, because there was no anger in his eyes anymore. There was only pain and hollowness and something Loki couldn’t quite read.

“You know what? You’re right; we were both mistaken. And I’ve had enough – I’m not a templar anymore, haven’t been for a year, and yet you still can’t let it go. I can deal with people calling me your slave and trying to order me around, with living amongst power hungry hypocrites, and with all the shit the city guard has to do, but I don’t have to deal with your shit as well. I’m not going to stay with someone who only sees me for what I’m not because of some stupid label,” Tony quipped, already turning around and walking for the door.

And that was it, exactly what Loki dreaded when Tony came in and he saw the expression on his face – this _was_ a goodbye, after all; but at the same time, it wasn’t what he expected _at all_ , because he actually managed to bring it on himself.

“And are you not doing the same?” he called after Tony, already feeling his breaths grow quicker. “Why, Anthony, how _hypocritical_ of you – accusing me of all that when you only see me as a dreaded _blood mage_ yourself.”

Tony paused, and for a brief moment Loki almost believed that they could still work it out—

But then Tony shook his head, not looking at him, and reached for the door handle.

“Well, have you given me any reason _not to_?” he asked quietly. When Loki didn’t answer, his shoulders sagged a little, and he sighed. “Goodbye, Loki. I… wish you well.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Loki standing alone in the house that has never felt emptier.

~*~*~

Tony didn’t have a lot of things to collect, so it didn’t take him long to get packed. There was a ship sailing off to Antiva in a few hours – originally he didn’t plan to take it, but the next one would only be coming in a week or so, and frankly, he wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t change his mind by then.

He probably wouldn’t, but if, for whatever reason, Loki came to talk to him again—

No — Tony had to convince himself; no, Loki wouldn’t come – Loki didn’t _care_. It didn’t matter that he was there to witness Tony’s fight with the lyrium addiction. In the end, Loki still believed him to be something he has never been, not even when he _did_ have templar abilities.

And if he did come… Tony knew _he_ shouldn’t care as well, because no matter what Loki said or how he explained it, what excuses he made for himself, he still succumbed to the Tevinter customs. It wasn’t even just that he used blood magic – it was more the fact that it could be the first one in the chain of many changes, and Tony didn’t want to be a witness to that.

He didn’t really think that Loki would make _him_ a slave, no, but he didn’t want to find out one day that he took in a few slaves from the market to help him around the house.

Of course he would say that he did it because it was a right thing to do, because he saved them from other Magisters, because he would be a better master – or some other excuse, Tony didn’t want to dwell on it.

Maker, it _hurt_ to think of it; his chest felt tight, and there was a lump in his throat, but Tony tried to tell himself that it was because of the upcoming voyage across the see and not because of Loki.

When he thought of leaving for these past two weeks, he expected that he would at least have the decency to deal with his property and job; right now, though, he couldn’t care less.

He just wanted to disappear and become as invisible as he felt for a long time now.

It was snowing in earnest when Tony left the house that failed to become his home. He covered his face with a frown and hurried to the port, taking the shortest way across the city. At least the streets were empty – heat-loving vints must have hated the weather. He could sympathize, but at the moment it seemed very suitable.

The ship that would finally take him away was there when Tony finally got to the docks; for a few seconds he looked at it, and then turned around to take one last look at the city where he spent the last year.

He told his aching heart to shut up when it stuttered at the thought of leaving Loki behind, and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

Then he squinted.

Someone was running – to him?

Tony blinked as the figure approached, not sure if he was seeing right – but then he could make out single curses, a devious mix in Common and Tevene, and yes, it was certainly Loki’s voice and Loki’s angry, but determined face.

He tensed momentarily as Loki approached him, scowling and breathing hard.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked sharply, his insides turning upside down and making him sick. He really didn’t want to take their fight any further – damn, he just wanted to leave and be miserable without any second thoughts, was it too much to ask for?

Loki breathed in and forced a small smile on his face, grabbing his fancy staff tighter as his lips thinned.

“I’m going with you,” he said simply, and a corner of his mouth twitched at Tony’s apparent shock.

Tony stared at him blankly, his brain refusing to process the words, until Loki chuckled and nodded, gesturing at the ship. Only then did Tony notice that his arm was bandaged hastily, the thin cloth soaked through – he didn’t heal his cut, either didn’t have the time or… wanted to make a point?

“Well,” Loki called, already heading for the gangplank, “shall we?”

[ ](http://xjapanda.tumblr.com/post/133753481554/for-tonystarkfucksarounds-living-on-the-edge)

 

“You can’t leave,” Tony blurted out, making Loki pause and a small frown form between his brows. “You like it here; your _life_ is here now – seriously, what in the Maker’s name do you think you’re doing?!”

Loki huffed and took a step back, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the ship impatiently.

“Don’t tell me what I like and what I don’t, Tony,” he chastised; he didn’t look too pleased, but clearly was determined, and every protest Tony tried to make was met with a soft hushing sound.

No other passenger dared to comment on it, and eventually they both fell into silence.

They were standing on the deck when the ship took off, watching the city grow smaller as it gained speed.

“Why?” Tony finally croaked, his voice small and broken.

“I thought that would be obvious,” Loki muttered softly, bumping their shoulders. “You told me I never gave you any reason to – stay,” his voice hitched a little, but he continued with a small smile. “So this is me, giving you a reason.”


	8. Until My Darkness Goes

[ ](http://xjapanda.tumblr.com/post/133753487749/sketches-for-living-on-the-edge-by)

“Ugh, it’s so fucking _hot_ here!”

“Why, I thought it was exactly what led you to Antiva in the first place,” Loki chuckled at his side, tilting his head and watching Tony with a lazy smile; Tony sent him a nasty glare and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he grumbled. “If I wanted cold, I would’ve gone to Ferelden.”

Loki smirked, but when Tony didn’t respond to it, his face dropped a little; Tony tried not to feel guilty about it.

Since they both fled from Tevinter, their relationship remained… rocky, even though Tony suspected that it was further from the point where it would’ve become irreparable now than it was during their last conversation in Minrathous; still, after everything that transpired lately he couldn’t just… forgive Loki and continue as before.

But he was willing to give him a second chance. After all, Loki left everything he had wanted so much just to prove that he was different – or perhaps because he realized that the dream he tried to bring to life was wrong on so many levels. Whatever the reason was, Loki deserved at least some respect for that decision.

The funny thing, though?

Loki seemed to be the one who tried to forget the year spent in Tevinter entirely and expected their friendship to return to what it was like back when they had been in Cumberland.

It was… confusing, but probably understandable – of course he wouldn’t want to dwell on their time in Tevinter since it would remind him of what he had to give up; that, however, didn’t mean Tony had to play along. A lot has happened during that year, they both have changed a lot, their relationship changed, and to pretend otherwise wouldn’t do either of them any good.

If Loki was uncomfortable with it, well… Tony didn’t ask him to tag along. He made the decision himself, he had to deal with the consequences now.

To his credit, Loki didn’t complain about it even once, although he always looked kind of hurt and surprised when Tony refused to act as lightheartedly as he used to. It left Tony feeling uneasy in turn – it wasn’t his intention to punish Loki or make a point or something, but whenever he was on the verge of making a flirtatious remark or a joke, his eyes snapped to the scar on Loki’s arm, and any humor left him abruptly.

It was… hard not to think of what their future could’ve been like had they stayed in Tevinter.

It was even harder not to remember all of the times he was casually dismissed or his wishes ignored in favor of getting into some Magister’s good favors, or the time he lived with Loki, taking up the role of his _mistress_ for all intents and purposes – without the sex part, and how he was considered to be his pleasure slave while Loki was none the wiser…

Tony wanted to leave it all behind, but he needed time, and even then he doubted they could continue like it had never happened.

For now, though, they had a task at hand, which was also, coincidentally, a perfectly swell reason to be focused on something other than their relationship.

“Are you _sure_ your relatives live here?” Loki wondered after a few moments of silence as they walked further into the city. Tony shrugged, squinting at the port buildings for the lack of anything better to look at.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Rialto was mentioned at some point during my upbringing,” he said absently. They have already roamed the Antiva City for a week – just to be sure – and found exactly nothing, or rather, no one that could help them.

Loki suggested they gave up the search and settled down by themselves; after a week of fruitless wandering Tony started seeing it as a challenge and insisted they go to Rialto, the city he vaguely remembered his mother mention once or twice.

“Because the name of the city is so very helpful,” Loki drawled sarcastically, following him into the shadow. “How comes you know nothing more? Have your mother never spoken of her relatives?”

He looked so genuinely curious now, yet it was the same man that could be so cold and distant, uncaring and indifferent; Tony couldn’t help but wonder which one of them was the real Loki. He frowned and averted his eyes once again.

“I couldn’t exactly drop by at my parents’ house for some quality time with them whenever I wanted,” he muttered. “I joined the Order when I was still a child, and since then I rarely got to see my mother. When I did, there were other topics to discuss.”

He heard Loki sigh wistfully and didn’t need to look at his face to know what he was thinking.

“Why join the Order?” Loki finally asked quietly, confirming that he did think about the Circles. “For my whole life… I wondered what prompted men to become templars,” he bit his lip, going silent, almost as if he didn’t really care for an answer; Tony watched him from the corner of his mouth, and there was a weird expression on his face that he couldn’t read.

“I was… idealistic,” he said slowly. “Wanted my father to be proud of me, I guess. Have I ever told you that he was the Knight-Commander?”

Loki blinked and turned to look at him, surprised, shaking his head. They have never discussed their pasts, Tony realized, equally surprised – after everything that happened between them, it seemed like they have known each other forever, and yet there was so little they actually knew. It was… anticlimactic.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “Well, there you go; my dad was the Knight-Commander, I wanted to be like him, the end of the story. It’s just…” Tony sighed and ruffled his hair. He spotted a tavern not far from where they were and nodded at it silently; Loki followed his gaze and shrugged, switching their direction accordingly. “It turned out… not exactly like I imagined it, you know?”

“I think I do,” Loki said drily and hummed as they entered the tavern. It was almost empty, the only patrons being a couple of drunkards sleeping on the farthest table in the corner and an elf drinking ale at the bar. “Well, I probably know how it turned out to be, not what you imagined, that is.”

“I told you that many times,” Tony huffed. They picked a table where they could speak without being overheard – it wouldn’t do to let anyone here know that Loki was a mage, after all, so they had to be careful – and asked a sleepy waitress for two mugs of ale.

She sneered and brought them a bottle of cheep wine a few minutes later; the look on her face suggested that Tony probably wouldn’t want to protest, so he didn’t.

“You told me what you thought as an adult,” Loki pointed out as he poured the wine into two glasses. “Not what attracted you as a child.”

Tony swirled his wine around, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

It was strange to think of his days as a templar again. He hasn’t been one for more than a year – he gave up the abilities that made him and the majority of his vows, and it wasn’t the kind of casual conversation they had over the dinner with Loki or something he could mention at the hatred Magisters’ parties; he didn’t particularly miss being a templar or regret leaving the Order – he wouldn’t have changed anything even if he could – but it was pointless to deny that it had been an essential part of his life, and accepting it again felt almost relieving.

“There’s not such a big difference between the two, actually,” he muttered. “I mean, my views didn’t change after I had joined – I stood by the same opinion; that our sacred duty was to protect, not threaten those we were responsible for.”

Loki hummed and sipped his wine, more thoughtful than Tony could ever remember him being during such a conversation. Perhaps he just wanted to show that he didn’t consider Tony to be the root of all evil anymore; perhaps it was something else.

“My brother is a templar.”

Ah. Something else, then. Tony was glad he wasn’t drinking at that moment, because he was sure he would’ve choked.

“I—your—you have _a brother?_ ”

“I do,” Loki chuckled mirthlessly, a lopsided smile stretching his lips into a thin line. “He… was older than me and has always been fascinated with the stories our father told about the templars. I remember him leaving for the Order,” he paused, nibbling at his lower lip.

“It was… before you knew…?” Tony asked cautiously, lowering his voice slightly; Loki’s face took a self-depreciating expression as he shook his head.

“No, I’ve known for some years already when he left.”

“Shit,” Tony muttered, frowning. “That must’ve really sucked, then.”

Loki shrugged and pushed a lock of long hair behind his delicate ear, pressing his cheek to his knuckles and looking to the side.

“Not really, no. We used to play templars and mages; Thor always got to be a templar, so it wasn’t really all that surprising. I also kind of hoped that as a templar, he would protect me,” he sneered, and then downed his glass in one long go, reaching for the bottle again as soon as it was empty.

Tony carefully touched his hand before he could refill his glass, and Loki’s eyes snapped to his.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said softly. “What… happened to him?”

“I have no idea,” Loki rolled one shoulder, fingers clenching around the bottleneck. “He was at the Circle – visited me sometimes, but I… came to detest those meetings, so they stopped.”

This time Tony didn’t stop him from drinking more wine.

There wasn’t much he could say – Loki clearly didn’t need his sympathy, but Tony could provide a pair of ears, if nothing else.

And he thought he knew where it all came from and what Loki didn’t say – how the rebellion in his Circle turned out for his brother.

“Well, I guess we should start looking for at least some relatives, then,” he joked weakly, trying to make some light out of the whole thing; the corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up in a small smile, and Tony counted that as a win. “Let’s hope that I remember my mother’s maiden name right, and if not, that someone here would know Maria that married a Stark from Starkhaven.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be over that,” Loki chuckled, raising his glass slightly as if in a toast; then his eyes trailed over Tony’s shoulder, and his face became more guarded. Tony turned around just in time to see the dark-haired elf that was sitting at the bar slid from the stool and approach them.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, pausing a few steps away from their table and twisting his fingers; Tony raised his eyebrows questioningly, encouraging him to continue. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I thought I heard you were looking for someone I might know…”

“Oh?” Tony exchanged wary glances with Loki and gestured at the free chair; the elf dropped down graciously and smiled brightly, offering his hand to Tony.

“My name is Lucio,” he introduced himself, shaking Tony’s hand enthusiastically. “And I have most certainly heard of Maria Stark.”

“Let me guess,” Loki interrupted them sweetly, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “You’d gladly walk us to where she lives, and only for a small reward?”

Lucio glanced at Loki as if he noticed him only now, lips curling in indulgent sneer.

“Last I heard, she doesn’t live here anymore, so I supposed you were looking for her family; I must have been mistaken,” he started to stand up, but Tony quickly grabbed at his shoulder.

“No, wait – we do! Do you really know them?” he demanded, shooting Loki a glare over Lucio’s shoulder; Loki grimaced and turned away with a haughty expression, sipping at his wine.

“I do, yes,” Lucio nodded slowly, glancing at Loki from the corner of his eye. “I would hate to be taken for some… rascal, however, only looking for easy gold; it’s incredibly rude.”

“Sorry, he didn’t mean it,” Tony said impatiently before Loki had a chance to open his mouth. That got him another indignant look, but he didn’t care at the moment. “Can you tell us where they live?”

“I could even walk you there – unless your friend here isn’t too suspicious,” the elf mused. “You needn’t worry; I’m merely going in the same direction.”

“How convenient,” Loki drawled; Tony hushed him, and Lucio smiled at him gratefully, patting his hand.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said, and Tony nodded, standing up. “Perhaps your friend should stay here, though? He doesn’t seem to like me,” there were teasing notes in his voice, and Tony chuckled, smirking at the way Loki glared daggers at the elf.

“Lead the way,” Tony gestured to the door; Loki caught his arm before he could follow their new guide, though.

“I don’t like it,” he hissed in Tony’s ear, startling him.

“Yeah, well, guess what, I got it,” Tony muttered back, frowning. “Why? He only wants to help; what’s wrong with that?”

“It looks like some sort of trap,” Loki murmured as they walked after Lucio, who gave them a funny look over his shoulder and wrinkled his nose, but didn’t comment on the closeness or the way Loki looked at him. “Anyone who heard you say that name could pretend to know it; at least as him something to make sure!”

“What? Their last name? Look, I told you, I’m not even sure I remember it myself,” Tony said in hushed tones. “He knows that Maria Stark doesn’t live here, but her relatives do; I think that’s enough.”

“He could still get it from your words alone,” Loki looked frustrated and almost distressed at this point; Tony shook his head and squeezed Loki’s fingers where they grabbed at him.

“No need to be jealous, baby,” he crooned. “He’s not exactly my type.”

“Maker, Anthony, could you be serious for a moment!” Loki cried in a sotto-voice and swatted his arm, but some ice melted from his eyes, and Tony winked at him.

“I’m always serious; never been more serious in my entire life.”

“I see this is getting your spirits high,” Loki grumbled and let him go, still scowling. Tony rolled his eyes and gestured for him to lean down so that he could whisper into his ear as well.

“Look, even if it’s a con and he wants to get us to some small space where he could rob us – between the two of us, I’m pretty sure we’d win in a fight. Happy now?”

Loki gave him a long, thoughtful look, and then nodded. He didn’t look happy or satisfied with the answer in the slightest, but Tony supposed it would do.

He doubted it would be a trick, after all.

Although after twenty or so minutes of walking he started doubting his doubts.

It proved to be a right thing to do in the end, because not a few minutes later there was a dagger aiming for his throat, and then a rush of a cold air, and the said dagger stilled in less than an inch away from his skin, the hand holding it frozen in place along with the body.

Tony gulped and turned to look at Loki, who was breathing hard and had both hands outstretched, palms facing the elf.

“Okay,” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m gonna say it for you – you totally told me so.”

Lucio watched them both with wild eyes, the only part of him that could still move, it seemed; Tony shook his head in disgust.

“And here I believed you,” he tutted; Loki snorted, brushing his hands and straightening with a shaky breath. Tony could feel the tension and anxiety coming from him in waves; it was the first time he used magic in the plain view since they came here, and the fact that it had to be kept in secret again must have been torturing. “Are you okay?” Tony asked softly; Loki’s head snapped up, and he stared at him disbelievingly.

“You were the one who almost got killed, and you’re asking me?”

“Yeah, nevermind,” Tony muttered, turning his attention back to the struggling elf encased in ice. “Could you, um, de-freeze him from the mouth up?”

“I could snap his hand off and then free him,” Loki offered, smirking darkly at the terror in Lucio’s eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That would suit him right, don’t you think?”

Even as he said it, he wiggled his fingers, and Lucio gulped air with a sharp hiss, his head, but only his head, moving again.

“Please,” he croaked, “Please… don’t?”

“ _Now_ you’re looking at me differently,” Loki drawled. “Ah, but I missed it; instilling fear into the hearts of many just because of my nature.”

“I think it might have something to do with the prospect of snapping his arm,” Tony huffed, drumming his finger on the frosted blade of the offending dagger. Lucio swallowed audibly, his eyes darting between them. “Alright, buddy; I’d get it if you wanted money and meant to rob us, but that didn’t look like a robbery – it looked like you wanted to kill me, and I have to say, it’s confusing. I’ve only been in Antiva for, like, ten days; I couldn’t possibly do something that terrible – I haven’t even fucked anyone who could be your relative, I was just looking for mine, so. What the fuck?”

The elf in front of him took another deep breath, trying to calm himself, and closed his eyes.

“I am from Antivan Crows,” he said evenly. “We had… a contract for your life. And I made a terrible mistake,” his lips curled into a self-depreciating smile and he shook his head a little, as much as he was able to, clearly growing uncomfortable. To Tony’s best knowledge, the spell should’ve worn off eventually, but there was a steady breeze of cool air coming from Loki’s general direction, so Loki must’ve kept the ice prison from thawing; he was, he had to admit, grateful – after all, there was still a dagger meant to take his life to consider, and, he supposed, only once chance to take a Crow by surprise. If he got free, he could as well finish the job.

“Why is there a contract for his life?” Loki frowned, taking it upon himself to speak up, seeing as Tony was a little bit too shocked to.

Lucio licked his lips and, Tony supposed, tried to shrug, wincing when the attempt to move failed.

“Please,” he begged, his huge grey eyes growing pleading. “I already failed the job; shamefully, might I add – I wouldn’t try it again, for covering my mistake like that would be a coward’s thing to do. Please, release me?”

Tony hesitated, but was taken aback when Loki snarled, and the ice grew even thicker around the elf.

“You’re a good actor,” he hissed. “But far as I know, assassins have always used cowardice to their advantage. Now, I think I asked you a question.”

Lucio’s eyes darted to Tony, but he met them stoically, only arching an eyebrow. Loki was right – whether he was telling truth or not, it just wasn’t worth taking the risk. The elf must have realized as much and sagged a little.

“I’m just an assassin,” he said meekly. “I don’t know the details – neither of us does, we just know that someone wants Tony Stark dead; we were told that he would be looking for Maria Carbonell’s family, and when I heard you talking about her, I-I… I thought it would be the simplest job I’ve ever done,” Lucio whimpered, but Loki was relentless with his spell. “Look, if you want the details, go look for the guildmaster! He’s our handler; decided a task like this required at least several people looking for you.”

Tony frowned, shaking his head. Who could possibly want him dead that much? Did he piss off some Tevinter’s nobility? Did one of Loki’s former lovers want to get into his good graced by presenting him with a head of his ‘runaway slave’ on a silver platter? But that was ridiculous; he has never been overly… social there, and besides, it made no sense – nobody in Tevinter knew about his mother’s family to his best knowledge—

His mind stopped in its tracks.

“I don’t believe you,” Loki was snarling, still interrogating the unfortunate assassin; Lucio grunted from what sounded like pain, and hissed.

“You don’t have to believe me for it to be true!”

“Like getting us to…”

“Leave him,” Tony interrupted Loki impatiently, grabbing his arm. “Or kill him, I don’t care—no, actually, I do, kill him and let’s go, I think I know what’s going on.”

Lucio’s eyes went impossibly wide, and even Loki looked surprised – not appalled, though, or against the idea.

“I didn’t think you’d be so bloodthirsty, but I’m glad you came to your senses,” Loki smirked.

“What?! No! I didn’t kill you, did I? Please, you don’t have to—I won’t tell anyone--!”

“Yeah, well, last I checked my friend wasn’t a necromancer, so if you did kill me, the whole debate would be pointless,” Tony quipped, and before Lucio could scream, he snatched a knife from his belt and neatly slit his throat, stepping aside to avoid the splatter of blood.

This time, even Loki looked shocked. He released the spell, causing Lucio to promptly fall on the ground, gurgling, and looked at Tony with wide eyes.

“He knew you’re a mage,” Tony shrugged, leaning down to wipe the knife at the elf’s tunic. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of that – besides, I think I heard that the Crows eliminate the assassins that failed to kill their mark anyway, so we kind of did him a favor.” He stood up again and started walking, gesturing for Loki not to lag. “Come on, we’d better get out of here.”

“What’s going on?” Loki inquired, falling into steps beside him. “Do you know who wants you dead?”

“I think I might have an idea,” Tony admitted begrudgingly. “Maker’s balls, I don’t know if I want to look for confirmation.”

He also didn’t know whether he hoped to be right or wrong – oh, who was he kidding; even if it meant more troubles for him, he hoped with everything he had that he was wrong, because otherwise the thought made him sick.

They didn’t part on the best terms, but surely Obadiah wouldn’t go that far to get to him? They might have disagreed on many things and he might have committed a treason of sorts when he left…

But Obadiah was the closest he had to a family and _always_ had his back.

He also was the only one, apart from Loki, who knew that he had relatives in Antiva and could go looking for them, and Tony doubted that Loki would hire the Crows to kill him if he wanted him dead.

His shoulders sagged; he jumped when he felt Loki’s hand on his back, startled from his thoughts.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” he asked again, and for the first time since Tevinter Tony didn’t doubt the sincerity of worry in his voice.

“Let’s find a room somewhere, shall we? I think I have to finish the story of my life before we met.”

~*~*~

“You were a _Knight-Captain?!_ ”

“Not because of my father, mind you,” Tony snorted. “I just told you, I became a Knight-Captain after Obadiah took up the position of Knight-Commander; anyway, it was… a mess,” he took a deep breath and rubbed his face, slumping on the chair.

Loki watched him become more agitated and distressed by the minute for the whole evening, but now he seemed to deflate, as if all the energy that kept him upright left.

It was disheartening to see him like that, and not for the first time Loki wondered if he’d ever see Tony – let it be not happy, but at least content, again.

He hoped it would change when they came to Antiva, but if anything, the only thing that changed seemed to be the reason behind Tony’s distress; and at least now he knew what made his friend miserable.

Or was about to know. By the looks of it, Tony wasn’t nearly done with his story.

“As I said… I, um, wasn’t exactly the templar my father wanted me to be – so we fought. A lot,” he twiddled with his fingers, his eyes fixed on his hands on the table and not on Loki. “He refused to listen to me when I tried to bring his attention to everything I considered wrong; Obie… wasn’t like that. He talked to me.”

Loki realized with a start that even after he had acknowledged how different from other templars Tony was, he never gave it any real thought – never tried to imagine what it must’ve meant for _Tony_ ; he tried to forget that he had been a templar, believed it to be of no importance now that Tony willingly gave up his abilities, but it never occurred to him what Tony had to go through with such vastly different beliefs amongst the other templars and how hard it must’ve been not to just… give up.

Not to become like others.

His heart surged painfully at the thought how little credit he was giving Tony all this time; what little grudge he might’ve held after leaving Tevinter for the sake of their continued friendship all but disappeared under the weight of that realization.

“He didn’t take me seriously, of course,” Tony continued quietly. “Always told me to let it go, that it would make my life easier because there was nothing I could change, and the only thing I could probably accomplish was to get myself into an early grave with little consequences for others. But he agreed that the whole system was… problematic, so I used to think that he was on my side.” He paused again and then shook his head, finally meeting Loki’s eyes; Loki was startled by the haunted look he saw there. “It took me years to realize that he was manipulating me – and I’m not proud of that, but…” he shrugged, and lowered his eyes again with a sigh. “What happened, happened. Perhaps I started noticing something when he became Knight-Commander; perhaps it was the new First Enchanter who inadvertently helped me to see through all that – but fuck, I know we had a lot of shit between us, but it can’t be the reason to _kill me_!” he exclaimed, agitated.

Loki reached across the table to stroke his hand soothingly; surprisingly enough, Tony let out a shuddering breath and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just – Maker’s bloody ass, I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“Why did he become a Knight-Commander?” Loki wondered softly, his thumb stroking in circles over the back of Tony’s hand; the hand in question clenched into a fist unconsciously, and he almost regretted the question, but then Tony relaxed – deflated – again.

“Have you ever heard about the Starkhaven’s fire?” he asked tiredly; Loki nodded.

“The Circle there was destroyed, I believe? A few mages that survived were transferred to Tantervale; they didn’t speak a lot about it, though.”

“Yeah, that,” Tony uncurled his hand and after a moment’s hesitation squeezed Loki’s fingers before letting them go. “The royal family was slaughtered, and the Circle was burned; my… parents died during those events – I still have no idea how in Maker’s name they were involved, but… yeah.” He went silent after that, but Loki didn’t dare ask anything else.

He knew what was left unsaid, the way Tony must’ve known what he hadn’t told him about Thor – the mages were most likely held accountable for the fire and the deaths, the deaths of Tony’s _parents_ , and yet, somehow, _he_ didn’t blame them for the loss of his family. It would’ve been so easy – he had such an easy outlet, a perfect target, and still he didn’t buy it.

Loki held his hand tighter, his throat too tight with emotions to let any words through anyway.

Tony started and then smiled sadly.

“Both Obie and I got promoted after that, and I kind of… zoned out,” he continued. “Until the First Enchanter demanded my help, and I finally got my head out of my ass. Basically, that’s the end of the story; you know the rest – there was a rebellion, one that, I’m almost sure, Obie has provoked, and he was going to destroy the Tower _again_ , and, well,” he huffed with a dark chuckle, “I didn’t agree with him. Knocked him unconscious and ran, and in a couple of weeks after that I met you.”

“That’s…” Loki took a deep breath and swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak.

“Fucked up, yeah, I know,” Tony finished with a mock cheerfulness for him. “But shit, Loki… If he is the one who made the contract…”

“Perhaps it’s not him,” Loki suggested half-heartedly, even though he could see it in Tony’s eyes that he didn’t believe it himself. “Perhaps it was that ancient Magister from Tevinter that always picked on you – Kaius, wasn’t it?”

That seemed to take Tony’s mind off the matter at hand at least somewhat, and he chuckled with a small smile.

“Ah, good old Kaius; yeah, I wouldn’t put it behind him.”

“What was it that you didn’t share, anyway?” Loki couldn’t help but wonder, curious. The old Magister was at Tony’s side whenever they were both presented at the same place, but disappeared as soon as Loki joined them; he used to compliment Tony a lot behind his back, though, so Loki never considered him to be a threat to Tony, no matter how displeased with his presence Tony was.

Tony snorted and sent him a dirty look.

“Well, basically, I told him that old wrinkled men were not in my taste, and he didn’t like it,” he said simply. Loki blinked, both eyebrows rising high on his face.

“Why would you…”

“He propositioned to me, Loki,” Tony explained exasperatedly. “More than once. Quite insistent old pal, I have to give it to him; perhaps he decided that if he can’t have me, no one else will, now that I ran away,” he mused. “Oh, shut up, don’t act as if you’re surprised – that was the majority of my interactions at the parties anyway; Magisters leering after me and me inventing new ways of turning them down – what?” he demanded, clearly annoyed by Loki’s bemused expression.

“Tony, I… had no idea,” he muttered, appalled. He knew that Tony was no celibate (although he preferred not to think of it or the times when Tony came home in the wee hours of morning disheveled and stinking of perfume), but he never thought that he would be getting that kind of attention or propositions at the parties they attended; not because he wasn’t good enough, of course, he actually was much better than every other person there – Loki felt himself blush, ashamed as his thoughts wandered to the wrong direction.

Anyway, it didn’t sound like what was happening was in any way flattering or welcome, and it pained him that he never noticed while it still mattered.

Tony shrugged.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he said, as if he could read Loki’s mind, and stood up. “For now I think I have to… find a way to know who’s behind that contract, and then decide what to do with it.”

Loki couldn’t agree more.

~*~*~

Perhaps money couldn’t buy everything, but enough of it could buy a lot, especially in a place like Antiva, where the trade was in the heart of everything. It took them some days and a lot of coin and efforts (and in some cases, timely flirtatious remarks, which for some reason annoyed Loki beyond all reasons), but in the end they got the name.

Obadiah Stane was paying the Antivan Crows an impressive amount of gold for one Tony Stark’s life.

Tony stared at the copy of contract blankly, processing the words slowly.

Obie actually wanted him dead.

He might’ve suspected as much since the beginning, but it was one thing to suspect and the other – to know for sure; he didn’t feel as devastated as he thought he’d be, though, or even perversely glad that he guessed right.

The only thing he felt was hollow.

“Tony…”

Tony blinked and took a deep breath, rolling the parchment and stuffing it into his bag, not meeting Loki’s concerned eyes.

“I have to go back to Starkhaven,” he muttered. “I just – I want to look the bastard in the eye. What… what the actual _fuck_.”

Loki watched him wander around the room for a few moments and then joined him, gathering his own belongings. He took surprisingly little from Tevinter, Tony couldn’t help but notice; a few books, some unremarkable clothes, but that seemed to be it – no artifacts, no souvenirs or the gifts other mages presented him with.

He kept the writing set Tony gave him on his nameday, though. It made warmth pool in Tony’s chest, even though it was a ridiculous thing to get excited of.

“You don’t have to go with me,” Tony said quietly; Loki paused and gave him a questioning look. “I mean, you don’t have to stay in Antiva, of course, but I suppose you could go back… or whenever you like, really; I’m not expecting you to follow me to deal with my problems.”

Loki straightened, and the questioning look turned skeptical. Tony suddenly felt foolish for assuming that he wanted to join him in the first place – why would he, Tony didn’t ask him, and there was really no reason for Loki to—

“I didn’t leave Tevinter only to dump you now, Tony,” Loki said, and his mouth twisted, like he was disappointed in Tony’s thinking abilities. “Stop making these decisions for me; I’m perfectly capable of it myself.”

Perhaps he was wrong, Tony thought absently, feeling his heart beating hard against his throat and his head swim. They both changed, but it didn’t mean their relationship couldn’t be the same as it was before – because the last time he wanted to kiss Loki so much was right before they took the ship to Tevinter.

And just like then, he refrained from doing it, offering a small smile instead, not wanting to risk ruining their friendship right now.

Perhaps later, after they’ve dealt with everything else.


	9. You’re My Saving Grace

Starkhaven didn’t change much during his absence, Tony noted as he walked to the former Circle’s tower mournfully, a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready for the possible attack. They were lucky enough to escape the Crows in Antiva, but he didn’t think he had less to fear here. After a long discussion and a minor fight, Loki finally agreed to stay behind while he went to confront Obie, although Tony suspected that he still followed him somewhere at a safe distance; he wouldn’t lie he found it oddly touching, despite the fact that it added to his worries.

But at least he knew that if worst came to worst, Loki could stand up for himself, even if he hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

The Tower was probably the only place that has changed a lot; it looked… neglected and dilapidated – he supposed there was no need to maintain it now that it was mostly empty, so it made sense.

It still was a sorry sight. If Obadiah was still here as Tony expected he would be… well, suffice to say it made a perfect scene for a confrontation like that.

Some part of him hoped that the confrontation wouldn’t be the last, though, but he squished that hope.

Hopes only brought him so far.

The empty halls had a depressing effect on Tony; he tried not to pay attention to the poorly washed bloodstains on the walls and not to wonder about Yinsen too much as he passed the place where he left the man last time they saw each other – until he knew, he could pretend that the First Enchanter made it out alive.

The door to the Knight-Commander’s office was opened as he reached it, and he froze a few steps away from the light coming out from the doorway.

“Come in, Tony,” Obie chuckled from inside, startling him. “I know it’s you; there’s no need to hide – unless you changed your specialization for a rogue, hmm?”

Tony left his hiding spot and walked into the office with his head high, a picture of confidence for all intents and purposes. Obie was standing at his desk, a glass of amber liquid in his hand; a corner of his mouth curled at the sight of Tony, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Hello, Tony; it’s good to see you again – I have to admit, I missed you terribly this past year.”

“So terribly that you hired a guild of assassins to kill me?” Tony gritted his teeth, fighting to stay calm; Obie rose both his hand placatingly, a familiar smile stretching his lips under the white beard.

“Now, no need to be so hasty – yes, I made a mistake, and I’m not ashamed to admit it,” Obie mused, gesturing at one of the empty chairs; Tony pointedly ignored the invitation to sit, and he shook his head fondly with a small chuckle. “I was… too harsh to judge, myself – but you have to understand,” he insisted. Tony didn’t like the feverish glint in his eyes, and his hand twitched at his side, ready to reach for the sword. “What was I supposed to think? I heard you left to Tevinter…”

“You spied on me,” Tony breathed out, astonished. He didn’t think Obie forgot about him, of course – not in the light of recent discoveries – but he never expected him to follow his every step; the thought was… terrifying.

“Of course I spied on you,” Obie agreed lightly. “I had to know what you were up to – you’re like son to me, after all.”

“A son you tried to kill!” Tony shouted, abruptly losing his temper; Obie’s face became pitying and somewhat guilty as he shook his head once again.

“Like I said, Tony, it was a mistake, and I’m sorry! See? I’m not trying to kill you, am I? I was… scared,” he confessed with a heavy sigh. “You went to Tevinter, which wasn’t surprising considering you have always sympathized with mages. I though you would see how corrupted power makes them and understand that you were wrong, but you spent a year there, Tony – and _then_ you came back; now, I know you’re a smart and reasonable man, and for all the fascination you felt towards the docile mages here, even you couldn’t have possibly stayed there of your own free will – so something terrible must have happened; someone must’ve controlled your mind – and Tony, believe me, I know that such life is worse than death, and I wouldn’t have wanted it for you. To live serving a mage…” he grimaced, and Tony gritted his teeth harder. “I couldn’t know whether you came back because you managed to get free or because you were told to; of course, I see now that I was wrong, and for that, I truly am sorry.”

It was terrifying how convincing Obie made it sound; already Tony could feel the beginnings of doubt – Loki _did_ use blood magic, after all; how could he know he _wasn’t_ controlled?

That he didn’t come here to kill Obie because Loki wanted him to?

He closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath.

He didn’t want to kill Obadiah. He only wanted to talk.

“Just… withdraw the blasted contract,” he muttered. “There’s a lot of shit in you, Obie, but I really don’t want to deal with it. What I want is to get lost and live somewhere in peace. Is that a proof enough for you that I’m not controlled?”

Obie narrowed his eyes and downed his drink before placing the glass on the desk carefully and walking around it, crossing his arms around his chest.

“That’s it? You came here to ask me to withdraw contract on your life? And here I thought you missed me, boy,” he chuckled; the sound of it sent shivers down Tony’s back, and he stiffened.

“It sounds like you use it as an euphemism for ‘trying to kill you’,” Tony quipped, refusing to step back.

“You didn’t travel alone, Tony,” Obie said, ignoring his words. Tony blinked and bristled.

“Excuse me, what?”

“I said I know that you didn’t travel alone,” he hummed and stroked his beard. “I don’t know who it is, but since you came back from Tevinter together, I suppose it’s a mage. Can you see now why I’m so concerned, Tony? I know, you have very… twisted perception of this world; you think that mages need our protection, and because of that you failed to see how you fell a prey to one of them.”

“I thought you just said that you see how you were wrong about me being under mind control,” Tony growled, but Obie paid him little mind.

“You’ve always been so naïve; even now you came here thinking that you’re going to walk out peacefully – do you truly not see anything wrong here, Tony?”

“I don’t,” Tony grumbled. “Not unless you’re going to complicate it.”

“Enough,” Obie snapped suddenly, dropping the pretense of a civil conversation abruptly. “I know that your mage wants you to kill me and take up my place, but I’m not going to let it happen.”

That… was not what Tony expected to head; it didn’t even make sense – he blinked, flabbergasted, and stared at Obie with growing disbelief.

“That doesn’t make any—”

Before he could finish the sentence, four templars entered the room, fully armored, and Tony cursed, slowly reaching for his sword.

“You lying bastard,” he spat out bitterly. Obie clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking his gauntlets from where they were lying on the desk.

“It’s for your own good, Tony; believe me when I tell you that it hurts me more – my heart bleeds for you, but living under the mage’s influence… it’s a pathetic excuse of a life.”

Just a few short moments ago Tony was glad that Loki wasn’t here, that Obadiah didn’t have more ground for his accusations; right now, however, he desperately wished for the opposite.

He also wished he had something more efficient than a leather armor on right now. And a shield.

In hindsight, a shield was definitely a must.

The templars attacked simultaneously; with a cry, he barely managed to duck to avoid the two swords on his left as he countered the two on his right with his blade and twisted, using the only advantage of _not_ having a bulky metal armor – agility – to escape from the middle. That meant that he essentially trapped himself between the wall and five templars; Obie sneered, but his expression quickly changed from mocking to furious when Tony darted for a spare shield that decorated the wall.

He managed to grab it just in time to cover himself from the next hit; the office was too small for five armored men, so they couldn’t strike at the same time again like that – which played to Tony’s advantage as well. He bashed the next templar with the shield, making him grunt and stumble, and as he blocked the way for other two, Tony only had to deal with one of them for a moment – Obadiah was left standing behind, fuming.

It was as vicious a fight as it was ridiculous.

“I’m flattered,” Tony hissed, aiming for the templar’s legs, “that you considered me to be a threat enough… for four templars.”

“I’m not risking underestimating a mind-controlled warrior,” Obie grunted, pushing one of his men aside – and escaping a bolt of lightning by mere coincidence. The templar that got electrocuted in his stead shrieked, a shrilling sound that made everyone pause in terror, and fell to the ground in convulsions with a heavy thud.

Obie’s face twisted ugly, and he bared his teeth, turning to the doorway.

There, in all his majestic glory and with a dangerous grin on his face, stood Loki – and Tony could swear he had never been more beautiful than in that moment.

“I figured you could use a hand,” Loki said nonchalantly; Tony grinned and used the distraction to shove one of the templars away, striking a sword out of his hand.

“I won’t let you have him!” Obie yelled, his face going red, but before he had a chance to cast _Silence_ over Loki, Tony broke through to him and smacked him hard into the side of his head.

With one elegant wave of his hand, Loki froze the remaining templars in place and shattered them with a force wave.

“I think you should say it again,” he mused, arching an eyebrow; Tony rolled his eyes, panting and smiling tiredly.

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so,” he hesitated over Obie’s unconscious form, slightly weirded out by the repeat of their last meeting. “I have no idea what to do with him,” he confessed.

Loki walked closer to him, looking at Obadiah’s twisted grimace.

“Why did he attack?” he asked with a slight frown. Tony winced and shrugged.

“No idea. He didn’t make any sense; uh… we probably should tie him up and then try again later?”

“Good idea,” Loki nodded. “But I think we could do without a rope; a paralysis glyph is more convenient.”

“One word: _Cleanse,_ ” Tony argued; Loki hummed in agreement and then crouched down, wiggling his fingers.

“In that case, I have a spell that—”

He didn’t finish – before either of them could react, a hand shot up and grabbed Loki’s throat, squeezing hard until he choked on air, too shocked to do anything but scratch at the metal gauntlet uselessly. Just as Tony reached for his sword again with an angry cry, Loki flinched with a pained gasp and sagged in Obadiah’s grip, disoriented from _Silence_.

“Stand down, boy!” Obie barked. “Unless you want me to hurt your little friend here.”

Tony froze in place, the anger boiling inside, but lowered his sword slowly; Obie grinned darkly, as he stood up heavily, leaning against his desk, and carelessly turned Loki around, shifting his grip to grab his hair instead, tilting his head back painfully.

“Let him go, Obie,” Tony growled; Obadiah snarled, yanking Loki’s hair harder and lifting a blade to his throat.

“You stupid child; don’t you see how easily you’re manipulated? He uses you; I know you came here to take my place, but I won’t let you – you never understood how these things work, just like your father! I won’t let you ruin everything, I worked too hard--”

“I said let him go!” Tony yelled. “You just drained his mana, he won’t do anything!”

For a moment Tony thought he could see some sense in those crazed eyes; Obie looked at Loki thoughtfully and broke into a mad grin, suddenly pushing him aside. Loki stumbled and fell on his side with a muffled groan; Tony wanted to go to him, but was stopped by a surprisingly firm grip on his shoulder. He grunted from pain when the pointed edges of the gauntlet pressed into his skin and glared at Obie.

“I could use a mage; they’re rare now, sneaky brats, but good with lyrium. The dwarves would’ve been better, of course, but you have to pay them – why, I ask you, if you can have mages do the same?”

“What are you talking about?” Tony hissed, eyes darting to where Loki was still lying curled on the floor. “You’re mad, Obie; nothing you say makes sense!”

Obadiah laughed in his face – a hollow, empty sound that made Tony’s skin crawl – and smiled brightly.

“Lyrium, Tony! I’m talking about lyrium; I know you found out about it somehow, you and your father both righteous idiots; but it’s alright – I’m going to make it alright again, and this time I don’t even have to find excuses to get rid of a Stark; you’re guilty of treason and desertion, _and_ you were stupid enough to come here – I don’t even have to look for you to carry out your sentence!”

“What…” Tony felt himself pale, his brain refusing to process the implication of his words. “What are you talking about? You can’t—I don’t—you…”

“I won’t let you get in my way,” Obie hissed, and then there was a sharp piercing pain in his gut, and when he tried to inhale, he choked on his own blood.

When he looked down, there was Obie’s sword buried deep in his stomach – most likely all the way through.

“Oh, come on,” he whispered disbelievingly, already feeling his legs go week; the only thing that kept him upright now was Obie’s tight grip on his shoulder. “You bloody crazy bastard--”

The world was spinning around him; distantly he heard a muffled cry of anguish, and then a surprised grunt coming from Obie – he couldn’t focus on his face, but he thought Obie looked surprised; then his grip slackened, and he started falling to the side, slumping face first onto the floor with a dagger protruding from the back of his bald scull. Tony managed to lean on the desk, heaving, or he thought he did – the world tilted again, going dark around the edges.

Someone was whispering or maybe crying; there were hands on his cheeks, although he wasn’t sure if it was a caress or a slap. His vision was blurry, and he couldn’t make out the face above him, but he was pretty sure it was Loki – the hands that were on his cheeks dropped lower, pressing on his stomach near the wound, and he grunted from pain – or he thought he did, and he thought there must’ve been pain, but he didn’t really feel it, so perhaps he was wrong.

And when he closed his eyes, there was only light.

~*~*~

“No-no-no-no-no, don’t you _dare_ , don’t you fucking dare die on me, Tony!” Loki cried, cradling the unconscious body to his chest and swaying from side to side. There were tears streaming down his face, but he didn’t care; after everything they went through together, the man that meant so much to him was _dying_ in his arms, and there was nothing he could do.

He knew he couldn’t help Tony even if he hadn’t been drained of mana – a wound like this would’ve been a challenge even for a talented spirit healer, and the only things he could heal were bruises and scratches at best; it did little to the dreary feeling of helplessness, though, and only made it stronger, in fact.

He doubled over, crying silently and carding his fingers through the messy dark hair.

It was bloody _unfair_. It was unfair that it happened, it was unfair that he was late and that he couldn’t save him – he remembered a stupid joke Tony made a little over a week ago in Antiva about him not being a necromancer and choked on his sob, stroking the pale face with the back of his hand.

“Don’t do this to me,” he whined softly. “Please. Please…”

Men like Tony didn’t deserve to die at the hand of lyrium-crazed templars, but it was just another instance of how unfair the world could be, wasn’t it?

And then suddenly Tony’s body exploded with light, arching over Loki’s lap, startling him. He yelped, still holding tight to Tony’s shoulders and watching the way his skin slowly covered with glowing cracks; he felt a strong pull from the fade and gasped, eyes going wide.

Tony’s eyes snapped opened. They didn’t belong to Tony, however – it was the same white glow that encompassed his skin, and Loki would’ve crawled back had he not been still holding Tony tight. The expressionless eyes watched him with what looked like curiosity – and then the glow faded abruptly.

Tony made a deep, shuddering inhale and coughed, doubling over, one hand immediately going to cover the place where his wound was on his stomach a moment ago.

“Fuck!” he cried out and moaned, eyes squeezed tight. “Mhm… Maker’s bloody balls, that hurt!”

As Loki watched him, blinking owlishly, he groaned again and sheepishly pulled his hand back from his body, making a tiny surprised sound and finally lifting his head to look at Loki, bewildered.

“I’m alive,” he breathed out. “You… oh, Maker, I thought I died!” he laughed, relieved, and Loki found himself chuckling, too, the tension leaving him slowly.

And then Tony reached for his face with his bloody hands and pulled him close–

And kissed him with a deep, contented sigh.

Loki’s heart jumped in his chest, and suddenly he was growling and straddling Tony’s lap, both hands fisted in his ruined leather vest, biting and licking at his lips, tasting blood on his tongue and kissing him back like there was no tomorrow.

Maker, he never knew he needed it so much.

“Loki…” Tony groaned against his lips, arms wrapped around his waist tight. “I have no idea how you did it or what you did, but – thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Loki shook his head, panting against his mouth and pressing their foreheads together. “You came back to life on your own, and I believe we’ll have to look into it later, but for now – I’m just glad you’re alive. Never do it again,” he added with a glare; Tony gaped at him.

“Wh-what do you mean, on my own?” he muttered, pulling back when Loki tried to kiss him again; he leaned forward and nipped on Tony’s lower lip in retribution.

“I don’t have any mana left, but I felt a strong pull from the fade – and then you went all white and glowing; if you were a mage, I would’ve said that it looked like possession.”

“What?! But I’m not a mage!” Tony protested, frowning; Loki kissed him again, and his face softened a little. “I can’t possibly be possessed… right?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Loki shrugged. “It’s rare, however; once my magic is back, I’ll see into it, and we’ll find out what happened.” He pulled away reluctantly and rose to his feet, offering his hand to Tony; he accepted it, and Loki helped him stand up. “Let’s get out of here before anyone else comes looking what was this turmoil about.”

Tony looked slightly dazed, and Loki studied his face carefully for any signs of something unusual; there was nothing that couldn’t be explained by their situation in general, though – for a man who just died and came back to the world of living Tony actually looked pretty good.

“Yeah,” he said, the exhaustion seeping into his voice. His eyes fell onto Obadiah’s dead body on the floor, and he sighed. “What he said…”

He hesitated, and then reached for a discarded shield on the floor, running his fingers over its surface.

“I believe it was my father’s,” he noted absently. “I think I should keep it.”

Loki nodded and went to the door, allowing Tony a moment in the office alone; after a minute, Tony joined him, and they left in silence.

~*~*~

The first thing Tony heard the next day first thing in the moment was Loki’s voice – which was nice by itself, made even nicer by the fact that they shared the same bed and were _cuddling_ , but completely ruined by his words.

“You’re possessed!” He exclaimed, scandalized, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony as they both sat up. “By a _spirit!_ Do you have any idea how _rare_ spirit possession is?!”

“Wait a second,” Tony blinked rapidly, trying to make sense from his words. “You can’t be serious – how is it even possible? How do you know?” he demanded; Loki huffed, still glaring daggers at him.

“I went to the fade,” he explained impatiently. “Since I felt the fade energy around you, I supposed it was the easiest way to find out what happened to you – except you weren’t there; _a spirit_ was.”

Tony frowned, and Loki rolled his eyes.

“When a human goes to sleep, their mind--”

“I know how it works, thank you very much,” Tony interrupted him with a nasty look. “I don’t get what you mean when you say that I wasn’t there, though.”

“I mean that the spirit took your place,” Loki narrowed his eyes. “How it’s possible is a different question entirely – _a spirit!_ And you’re not even a mage!”

Tony’s mind, still muddy from sleep, slowly churned, and he stared at Loki wide-eyed.

“Wait – _are you jealous?!”_

Loki made an indignant sound and turned away from him, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Maker’s breath, _you are!_ Are you kidding me?! I’m _possessed,_ and you’re—no, you know what, I’m not even surprised,” Tony grumbled, running his fingers through his hair, even messier than usual from where Loki was stroking it last night. “For someone who taught himself blood magic just because he could…”

“It’s just magic, Tony, and I’m not even using it anymore because you don’t like it! Get over it already.”

“…Yeah, my point, exactly,” he sighed and rubbed at his face. “I’m possessed,” he repeated. “By a spirit. Maker save my poor soul…”

“You got such a rare gift that saved your life, and you’re not even a little grateful,” Loki muttered with a small shake of his head. “Yes. Life is unfair, indeed.”

Tony fell back to the bed with a groan.

“Spirit or not, it’s still a possession! Didn’t you have any classes on that? If a spirit becomes corrupted…”

“It turns into a demon, yes,” Loki leaned on his elbow over him, and behind the half-hearted envy Tony noticed overt concern in his stunning green eyes. Cool fingers trailed over his cheek, and Loki inhaled deeply, deflating a little. Tony smiled with a corner of his mouth and pulled him down to lie on his chest.

There was something in his… body or in his mind – or both; something foreign, something unwelcome, something…

That saved his life.

And could take it back any time it wanted now.

He didn’t want to think about it.

“I know,” Loki muttered quietly. “You’re a fool if you think that I’m not worried in the slightest; of course I am. But as long as it’s a spirit you’re dealing with, you have nothing to fear.”

“And when it becomes a demon?” Tony wondered just as quietly, pressing his face into Loki’s hair.

“ _If_ it becomes a demon, it will be dealing with me,” Loki smirked against his skin, and Tony couldn’t help but smile. “There’s nothing to worry about, Tony. I will protect you.”

Tony hummed in agreement, holding Loki tighter.

He believed him. They had each other’s backs – he could doubt everything else as much as he wanted, but if there was one thing he trusted unconditionally, this was it.

“What was that… spirit?” he finally asked after a few minutes of silence as curiosity got the best of him; he couldn’t see Loki’s face, but he could _feel_ him beam.

“A spirit of purpose,” he stated. “Oh, but we had a most delightful conversation…”


	10. Epilogue

After everything that happened with Obadiah, Tony decided that he didn’t want to stay in Starkhaven anymore; Loki couldn’t agree more – the templars were growing restless all through the Free Marches, and he was eager to leave.

Surprisingly enough, Tony didn’t want to go back to Antiva, and Loki couldn’t imagine returning to Tevinter – not after what he learned from Tony about it and certainly not with a spirit-possessed human in tow.

In the end, they decided that Ferelden was probably their best option, what with the king that sympathized with mages.

They settled in Redcliff, far enough from any big cities – a mage and a possessed former templar could use some discretion, Loki said, and Tony agreed, sour as he was about the whole possession thing.

It never failed to amuse Loki. The reasons behind it were as puzzling for him as they were for Tony, but he was far less worried – Tony didn’t share the same deep bond with the fade the mages did, thus his connection to it was much weaker; he could barely feel his spirit, and the spirit was tied to him loosely, so the risk of corrupting it was minimal.

Loki still kept an eye on the situation, of course, but for the past year that they spent in Redcliff there was nothing to be concerned of.

The need to constantly hide his magic again was slowly getting to him, though. There was little he could do about it – the Mage-Templar War was going on in earnest, and if they wanted to stay safe, they had to lie low. At least Tony was there for him; there were times when Loki doubted he could’ve made it alone.

He was also madly, terribly in love.

It helped, too.

“I think I saw more templars today than I did for the whole last month,” Tony grumbled as he closed the door to their house, dropping the bag with groceries on the table. Loki lifted his eyes from the book in his lap and arched an eyebrow questioningly; Tony walked over to him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey there, love.”

“Hello,” he chuckled, grabbing Tony’s collar and pulling him back down for a proper kiss; Tony laughed, barely managing to catch himself with both hands on the couch’s back before he crashed into Loki. “I take it there’s no use in asking how was your day?”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed and fell onto the couch beside him; Loki closed the book and placed it aside, turning to face Tony, who was rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I had to mess up a lesson, because a couple of templars decided they wanted to watch me teach the kids – a little too closely for my comfort. I hate it.”

“At least you get to see new faces,” Loki sneered with a fake regret. “And I’m the one who sits home all day long in fear of being caught; no freedom for me either way.”

Tony pinched his side, and Loki laughed, swatting at his hand.

“Don’t give me that,” Tony chided him. “I know you went out today. And yesterday. And the day before--”

Loki grinned, unapologetic, and promptly crawled into Tony’s lap, burying his fingers in his hair and tilting his head up, leaning down to devour his mouth.

If Tony had any protests, he didn’t voice them; his hands fell to Loki’s hips in a familiar gesture, and he opened up eagerly, smiling into their kiss.

“Have I told you how much I love your distraction technique?” he asked with a lazy grin when they pulled away from each other.

Loki smiled and kissed him again, more softly this time, taking his time.

There was something he had to discuss with Tony, but at the same time he was reluctant to bring it up; Tony must’ve felt his hesitation, because he gently pushed him away.

“What is it?” Tony asked softly; Loki sighed and sagged in his arms, absently stroking his hair.

“The templars that came here – I know where they’re going,” he bit his lip, meeting Tony’s searching eyes. “I heard it by the Chantry; the Divine is calling a conclave to settle the disagreement between the templars and mages and try to find a way to finish this war.”

“Oh.”

Tony was still looking at him inquiringly, clearly expecting Loki to elaborate; he took a deep breath and lowered his eyes.

“I want to go.”

“That’s it?” Tony sounded surprised, but Loki felt his shoulders relax under his palms; Tony smiled softly and lifted his chin with a finger. “Hey, if you think that it’s a good idea and that both mages and templars could stay civil at least for the meeting, I trust you; it’s high time someone done something, and if we can somehow help--”

“Tony,” Loki interrupted him quietly. “I want to go – alone.”

That made Tony shut up abruptly. He blinked and frowned at Loki, pulling away further.

“Why?” he scowled. “I hate to be that person, but I actually think that it’s better for us to stick together – not because I’m possessive or anything--”

“You are terribly possessive, Tony,” Loki said with a small smirk. Tony shot him a glare, but he could see a responding smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one to speak,” he quipped. “But seriously – it’s one thing to stay here and the other to go somewhere with no guarantee of any peaceful resolution; you’d be outing yourself as a mage, and it could explode in your face spectacularly--”

Loki pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him. Tony made a half-hearted grimace, but fell silent obediently.

“Yes, Tony, I’d be outing myself as a mage,” Loki sighed. “As just another apostate among a huge crowd of mages. You, however, are a runaway possessed templar that killed his Knight-Commander; we might no longer be in Free Marches, but there will probably be templars from all Thedas, and I… don’t want to risk losing you to the _law_.”

There was no way of knowing if it would be a problem or not, but Loki truly didn’t feel like taking any chances; he knew by the defeated look in Tony’s stubborn eyes that he agreed, and kissed him softly again.

“Well, what will you have me do in the meantime, then?” Tony grumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around him, as if he didn’t want to let Loki go; Loki pressed closer to him in a silent reassurance.

“Why, stay here and wait for me, of course; do you think you’ll manage?” he teased in turn. Tony snorted and kissed the side of his jaw, making Loki hum in pleasure.

“I’ll do my best,” he promised quietly. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” Loki brushed some dust from his shoulders – anything to keep his hands busy. “I’m not sure how long it will take, though, but hopefully not too long.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully and didn’t say anything else – making it clear that he wasn’t fond of the idea, but respected Loki’s decision anyway.

It was everything Loki could ever ask for.

He left for the Conclave early in the next morning, with Tony watching him leave from the doorway, still sleepy and disheveled, and decided that his presence was enough of a good omen.

Something was going to change, and soon.

Loki had a good feeling about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! It's absolutely the longest fic I've written in the fandom, but boy, did I have fun writing it :D   
> If you made it this far, thank you for reading! :)


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